Keeping 13

by Chloe Walsh

  Freedom suited her.

  "Shannon, I can't," I called after her when she ran too far ahead of me for the millionth time. "I'm too stiff." And embarrassed…

  "No, you're not," she encouraged, breathless and beaming back at me. "You're just out of practice." Turning around so that she was walking backwards, facing me, she said, "It's just us, Johnny – just you and me. And you can do this," Shannon repeated, looking more confident in this moment than I had ever seen her. "I promise."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yes." She skipped ahead of me with my ball in her hands and my heart in her ass pocket. Christ, she had me hook, line, and sinker, as I trailed after her like she was holding a fishing rod with a line that was attached to something deep inside of me.

  Forcing down my anxiety, I did as she asked; I lowered my defenses and moved my legs.

  "Well, well, well," Shannon taunted from further up the beach a little while later. Bouncing the ball in her hands, she gleamed at me. "Looks like I win again."

  "I think the power is getting to your head," I shot back, grinning. "Give me that ball."

  "Never," she laughed. "It's mine. You gave it to me, and I'm not giving it back."

  Like my fucking heart?

  "Throw it," I encouraged.

  Her eyes widened. "Huh?"

  "The ball," I called back. "Throw it and I'll pass it back to you."

  She eyed me warily. "You promise?"

  "Yes, Shannon." I rolled my eyes. "I promise I'll give you back the bleeding ball."

  "Okay." Like a toddler throwing a ball, Shannon held it between her legs, and with her brows set in deep concentration, she tossed it into the air – and about ten feet in the wrong direction.

  "I didn't realize I was playing with one of the minis," I laughed, as I went to retrieve it. "Remind me to get you one of those child slides when I take you bowling."

  "Hey – I'm all you've got, thirteen," Shannon called back, grinning. "So don’t mock me."

  She was all I had right now – the only person I could trust not to judge me for not being on form.

  I couldn’t do this with the lads.

  I would be too embarrassed.

  But it was different with Shannon.

  Everything was different when it came to her.

  37

  I'll Keep You Safe

  Shannon

  "Do you think it will ever stop raining?" I mused, staring out the windscreen at the heavy downpour.

  It had been consistently raining all day, which wasn't anything new for Ireland, but considering it was April, I'd been half hoping to see the sun soon.

  The wind was howling outside the car; whipping against the windows with a thunderous whoosh. Shivering, I turned in my seat to look at the boy lazing in the driver's seat next to me.

  Johnny had his seat reclined at an almost horizontal angle and was sprawled out like a lion, using one hand to scroll through Gibsie's iPod while he used his other to hold mine. His dark hair was plastered to his head, and his school shirt was so wet, it looked like a second layer of skin as it clung to his huge body. He'd long since shed his drenched coat and jumper, tossing them in the backseat along with mine, deciding we would dry off faster without so many layers.

  He had the engine running again, something he did every half an hour or so to keep the windows from fogging up and warm up the car. The heater was on full blast, blowing delicious hot air against my damp skin, and the last haunting rift of Jim McCann's Grace was humming softly from the stereo.

  "It's been a long winter," Johnny agreed, flicking through songs before settling on Coldplay's Yellow. "Hey – look at the name of this playlist." Snickering, he turned the screen of Gibsie's iPod towards me. "The lad's off his rocker."

  "Fuck me, suck me, self-destruct with me," I mused, reading the playlist name on the screen. "Sounds very…"

  "Gibsie?" Johnny offered with a shake of his head. "Yeah, that'll be him alright."

  "At least he's original," I offered. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like him before."

  "That's because the world can only handle one Gerard Gibson," Johnny said with a chuckle. His hand moved to his thigh, almost absentmindedly, to rub where I knew he was sore.

  "Is it sore?" Tightening my hold on the blanket he had found in the boot for me, I asked, "Are you feeling okay?"

  "No, Shan." Tossing the iPod on top of the dashboard, Johnny gave me his full attention. "I actually feel great." An indulgent smile tugged at his lips, causing the dimples in his cheeks to deepen. "Better than I have in months."

  "Really?" I beamed back at him. "So, I'm a good coach?"

  Smirking, he raised my hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over my knuckles. "You're one of a kind." Giving my fingers a gentle squeeze, he placed our joined hands back on his lap.

  Repressing a full-body shiver, I turned back to stare out the window, sighing in contentment, as I watched the waves rising, foaming, and crashing against the cliffs.

  Today…

  God, today had been the best day.

  When I woke up this morning, I was sure I would never smile again. Knowing that my father had a little over two weeks left in treatment before he was a free man had crippled something inside of me. It had doused the tiny flicker of hope I had been clinging to these past few weeks, as I adjusted to life without him. The letter he had written me was still unopened and tucked into the side pocket of my schoolbag. I wasn't sure if I would ever read it, but I knew that I didn't want to right now. I was so furious with myself for letting my guard down, for allowing myself to contemplate the possibility of a life without him in it.

  When I arrived at school this morning, I hadn't planned on seeking Johnny out. It just sort of happened. Without my brain's permission, my feet had led me straight to him. When he opened that car door, I didn't need to ask any questions before climbing inside, because I knew I would go anywhere with him. Whether he knew it or not, he had offered me a temporary lifeline and I had grabbed it with both hands.

  And now we were here, at the beach, having stolen his best friend's car to skip school and escape our hometown. We spent the day doing absolutely nothing and that meant absolutely everything to me.

  "Are you going to be in trouble?" I asked. "When your parents find out you skipped?" Evening was trickling in now, bringing with it a darkening sky and the stinging bite of the cold, night air. A prickling chill danced across my bare legs and I knew we would have to go soon. The thought was depressing, but I pushed it back, refusing to taint the best day of my life.

  Johnny shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm always in trouble for something."

  My lips tipped up. "Me, too."

  "We're some pair, huh?" he chuckled.

  "Yeah." Unsure of how to word my next sentence, I thought long and hard before giving up entirely on being tactful and just coming right out with it. "What happens in June?" It was the question that had been driving me insane ever since Joey told me about his career. It was the question that made me feel close to catatonic mode every time I thought of him leaving. "With the rugby," I whispered, biting down on my bottom lip as I turned to look at him, chewing so hard that I could taste blood on my tongue. "What happens when you go away?"

  Johnny was quiet for the longest time as his gaze flickered between my face and the steering wheel. Finally, he turned back to look at me. "That's a long way off, Shan," he admitted honestly, blue eyes locked on mine. "And I don't even know if I'll make the squad –"

  "You're going to make it," I cut in quietly. There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in my voice. "I'm sure of it."

  He stared hard at me for the longest moment before tearing his gaze away and focusing on the roof of the car. "I wish I was so sure."

  "Well, I'll be sure enough for the both of us," I replied, squeezing his hand. "It's going to happen." You're going to leave. "You're going to shine."

  He shook his head, brows furrowed. "I want it so fucking bad." Exhaling a pained sigh, he ran a hand through his rain-soaked hair a
nd growled. "Since as far back as I can remember, that's all I've wanted to do, you know?"

  "It's going to happen for you," I said, trying to offer him a smidgen of the support he gave me daily.

  "I fucked myself over fairly significantly," he muttered. "I didn't listen. I over-trained. I almost killed myself. If I make it –" he paused to look at me, "it'll be a miracle."

  "No," I corrected. "When you make it, it'll be years of hard work that paid off."

  "You think I can do it?"

  I nodded. "I know you can."

  He blew out a frustrated breath. "I just…want to be someone, you know? It doesn’t take any effort to be ordinary," he shared, his words coming fast and laced with the Dublin accent. "I don't want to be ordinary, Shannon. I want to be extraordinary. I want to excel. But all of it – the training and the fucking grafting – it means nothing if I don't make it back on the pitch soon." He dropped his gaze to stare at our joined hands and muttered, "It will have all been for nothing."

  "What can I do?" I squeezed out, desperate to help him. "Can I help?"

  Johnny smirked. "Oh, like coach me again?"

  "If you want?" I shrugged helplessly. "I just want to help you."

  "You can stay with me," he replied, tone low, blue eyes achingly vulnerable. "Even if I don't get the call."

  My chest burned so hard for him it was physically painful.

  "Oh, Johnny –" Unable to stop myself, I hitched my skirt up so I could clamber across the console. Climbing onto his lap, I placed a knee on either side of his body before gently lowering myself down, careful not to hurt him. I was met with a wall of thick, unrelenting muscle. There was nothing soft about this boy. With the exception of his face, he was hard all over.

  Johnny sat straight up; his hands automatically moving to my hips, tugging me closer. "What are you doing?" he whispered, watching me through hooded eyes. He swallowed deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, as his hands drifted to my bare thighs, fingers flexing into my skin every time he drew in another breath. The heat from his hands caused a delicious shiver of warmth to roll through me as he trailed soft circles over my bare flesh with his calloused fingertips. "Shan?"

  "I'm here for Johnny the boy," I told him, cupping his face with my trembling hands. "Not Johnny the rugby player." Exhaling a shaky breath, I leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back to look in his eyes. "I'll stay for both, but I'm only in love with one."

  He shuddered and closed his eyes. "You mean it." It wasn't a question. "You really don't care about it."

  I shook my head slowly, forcing myself to keep his gaze. "It's not what I see when I look at you – it's not what I have ever seen. I only want it for you because you want it for you," I added, voice hoarse. "But I'm here either way – rugby or no rugby…if you want me to be?"

  "Christ, Shan, you're killing me," Johnny groaned, tugging on my hips so that we were chest to chest. My heart fluttered wildly; the feel of his chest rising and falling against mine too much to take. "If I make it, it won't change a thing for us." Exhaling a low growl, he buried his face in the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply. "It won't change me," he added, voice muffled, as his fingers trailed up and down my ribcage. "Or how I feel about you."

  "Really?" I breathed, moving my hands to rest on his broad shoulders. "You promise you won't forget me when you're a big star?"

  Lifting his face to mine, he nodded slowly and whispered, "I promise."

  Unable to bear the aching need inside of my body a second longer, I snaked my hands into Johnny's hair and dragged his face to mine. He came willingly and our lips crashed together, setting alight a burning trail of heat between my legs. With a low growl of approval, he clamped his hands around my thighs and thrust his tongue between my parted lips, taking the air from my lungs and setting my whole body on fire.

  I could feel his erection straining against the fabric of his school trousers, pressing hard against me. Desperate for more contact, I arched my back and rocked my hips against his. "You're so perfect," Johnny growled, lips brushing against mine as he spoke. "Your skin is so fucking smooth." Nuzzling my neck, he pressed a trail of hot, wet kisses up my neck, his tongue sweeping out to taste me, as his hands roamed over my legs. "I've wanted you for so long." Moaning, I sagged against him, rocking my hips and arching my neck into his face, shivering and shaking all over. "Fuck!"

  I gripped his hair and tugged him closer, nails clawing and retracting like a kitten, as the need inside of me blossomed and burned. God, I loved his hair. It was cut tight around the sides and back, leaving a messy pile of unruly, disheveled, brown hair on top. It was usually styled in some fantastic way, but now that it was wet and I'd run my fingers through it half a dozen times, it looked even better.

  Claiming my lips again, Johnny fell back on his seat and pulled me down with him. My school skirt rose up to pool at my stomach as we rocked and rubbed our bodies together in a frenzied sort of unison, but I didn't care. Not one bit. All I cared about in this moment was keeping him with me.

  I didn't know what the future held for me and I wanted to make the most of every moment I got to spend with him. In two months, he would be gone. In two weeks, I could be gone. The tangent fear of the unknown was what catapulted me into action. If my dad came back… No!

  Don't think about it, Shannon.

  Just be here in the moment with him.

  Just absorb him.

  His lips were soft, his smell addictive, and the feel of his body rubbing against mine in all the right spots was making me feel incredibly reckless. I felt like I was at the point where I didn't know where I began and he ended.

  My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could feel it as we pressed our bodies together. With my heart racing wildly in my chest and anxiety threatening to overwhelm me, I reached for the buttons of his shirt.

  "Wait, wait, wait –" Breathless, Johnny craned his head back to look at me. His eyes were so dark there was hardly a hint of blue. Snatching my hand up, he held it to his chest and said, "What are you doing?"

  I don't know.

  I have no idea.

  "Please just let me," I whispered, shocked at my own forwardness, but not taking it back.

  "Shan –" His voice broke off and he groaned. "We talked about this…"

  "I know," I agreed, breathing hard and fast. "But I just…I want to see."

  "Just see?" He was breathing hard, his heart racing almost violently against his chest, as he drew in short breaths. "That's what you want?"

  Nodding, I sat up and placed my hands on his stomach. "I just want to see." With trembling hands, I reached for my shirt and fingered the buttons nervously. "Do you want to see?" Feeling skittish, I unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt. "I'll show you, too –"

  "Of course, I want to see," Johnny groaned, snatching my hand away from my shirt. "But if I see, I'll take," he strangled out, jaw clenched tightly. "And I can't be taking, baby, so please don't fucking show me."

  "I don't mind," I breathed, heart racing violently. "I want you to see."

  "Fuck!" Inhaling several calming breaths through his nose, Johnny released my hands and dropped his hands to my thighs. "Go ahead." With a stiff nod, he added, "Take what you need."

  Releasing a ragged breath, I moved to unbutton his shirt, only to fumble over the first button.

  Johnny remained perfectly still beneath me, with his blazing hot eyes burning holes in mine, and his chest rising and falling against my fingertips.

  Steeling my resolve, I inhaled a deep breath, shook my hands out, and tried again, not stopping until I had his shirt open and pushed aside.

  "You're so…" My words broke off and I exhaled heavily, eyes glued to his ripped stomach. I had full permission to touch, to graze my fingertips over the hard plains of his abdominal muscles. And there were muscles everywhere. He was built like rock. I trailed my fingers down his stomach, watching with fascination as his muscles contracted under my touch.

&nbs
p; "I'm so what, Shan?" Johnny asked, voice thick and gruff, as he lay sprawled beneath me on the reclined seat, with his hands clamped on my thighs. His hips were thrusting upwards in a slow, taunting rhythm, as he watched me watch him. "Hmm?" His fingertips traced the edge of my knickers, slipping under the cotton waistband to trail soft circles over my hipbones. "What am I?"

  My gaze drifted to his pecs, and then to the trail of dark hair from his belly button that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Muscles and skin. Flesh and heat. That was all I could see. All I could feel. He was so big. So everything. "Beautiful," I finally breathed, my gaze flicking back to his. "You're so beautiful."

  "You're making this hard for me, Shan." Sliding his tongue over his bottom lip, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my knickers and dragged me down on his chest. "I need you to not look at me like that." Burying his face in my hair, he suckled on my neck, drawing a breathy gasp from my throat. "I'm trying to be good here."

  "I'm sorry," I breathed, arching against him. I was aching for him in parts of my body I had never known existed before he explored, discovered, and claimed. "I just want…" I wasn't sure what I wanted. All I knew was this boy made everything better, he stopped the tornado of thoughts whirling around in my head, and I needed him to keep doing that.

  Maybe I was addicted to him, and maybe it wasn’t healthy, my feelings for him certainly bordered on obsessive, but he was encouraging me with every flex of his hips and every thrust of his tongue, showing me that he wanted this just as badly as I did.

  If I was doing this all wrong, then Johnny never complained. Instead, he groaned and moaned into my mouth in approval.

  He started to touch me, slowly at first, and then more confidently, brushing the pads of this thumbs over my bare skin. When I felt his hands slide under my knickers, a jolt of excitement shot through me, making my movements more frantic and clumsy. "Is this okay?" He palmed my ass and squeezed tightly. "Do you want me to stop?"