by Chloe Walsh
"I can't," I wailed, feeling terribly sorry for myself. "I'm on the way out here, Johnny."
It must have taken great effort from him, but I felt a heavy arm slump over my stomach, and then his fingers were trailing over my flesh in small circles. "At least we'll go together," he coaxed, face still buried in his pillow. "We've had a good run of it."
"But I'm naked," I croaked out. "I don’t want to die naked."
"Won't matter when we're dead," he declared, equally naked beside me.
Hungover as I was, I couldn’t resist the urge to sweep my gaze over his naked form, eyes lingering on his bare ass. "Did we, uh…" Shivering, I folded my arms across my bare breasts. "Did we do it last night?"
"Do what?"
"Have sex?"
"No sex." Giving my hip a little squeeze, he buried his face back into his pillow, and star-fished the floor. "Just sleep."
Unconvinced, I peeked around for the evidence of a foil wrapper, only to panic when I didn't find one.
"But we're naked," I croaked out. I tentatively shifted my hips and felt that familiar ache.
"I know," he mumbled. "Now sleep, Shan. Please. I have to drive us back home in a few hours and I'm trying to sweat the Jameson out of me, baby."
"Oh, okay." Squirming from the ache between my legs, I mirrored his actions and carefully rolled onto my stomach, watching him sleep.
My silence lasted all of seven minutes before I reached over and poked the ridiculously large bicep flexed around a pillow. "Hey – are you sure we didn’t have sex?"
Groaning under his breath, Johnny attempted a sleepy nod. "Hundred percent."
"I feel like something's been inside of me, Johnny," I squeezed out, shivering as my body drowned in the feeling of being thoroughly satiated. "Maybe not full on penetration," I amended. Tingling ripples of pleasure and excitement darted through me at the thought. "But there was definitely something inside me."
"Yeah," Johnny replied, peering up at me through one squinted blue eye. He held up his hand and twiddled his fingers. "These."
"Oh." Heat crept up my body. "Okay."
"Night, love you," he mumbled, closing his eyes once more.
"But it's morning."
"Shh…sleep."
Feeling needy, I braced myself and slowly wiggled over to his body. He was burning up, his skin hot and welcoming. Snuggling in to his side, I stroked my cheek against his shoulder.
"I'm trying to die in peace here, Shannon," he groaned. "And you're giving my dick notions."
"I'm cold." Shivering, I sidled closer to his big body that resembled a furnace 24/7.
"It's like thirty degrees outside," he noted, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at me. "You can't be cold."
"I am," I argued, shivering. "I'm perished."
Rolling onto his side, Johnny gave my body a slow appraisal from head to toe. "Ah, shite," he grumbled, throwing a thigh over mine and dropping his head on my chest. "That's my plan for the day gone out the window."
"What?" I whispered, greedily welcoming his warmth by wrapping my arms around him and holding him close. "What's wrong?"
He clamped a hand on my hip and exhaled a contented sigh. "I can't be getting notions of dying when you're looking like that."
77
Goodbye For Now
Johnny
"I'll call you every day," I vowed, as I stood in the middle of Dublin airport with my flight number being called over the intercom. "And I'll send you a million texts."
"But it won't be the same."
"I know, but we'll make it work," I promised.
"How?"
"We'll figure it out, okay? But I need you to stop crying," I begged. "Please."
"I can't help it. My heart is breaking here."
"I'll be home soon," I coaxed. "It won't be forever."
"No – no! Just no. You can't leave me, Johnny!"
"I have to go," I groaned. "Come on, don't make this harder than it has to be."
"You promise this isn't a forever goodbye?"
"I promise," I urged, patting his back. "Now, come on, Gibs. You're cutting off my air supply here."
"Fine." Sniffling, he released the death grip he had on my neck and took a step back, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I can't believe you're actually crying," I laughed, and then quickly sobered my features when that only made him cry harder. "It's six weeks, lad."
"They're going to snap you up," he sniffled, wiping his eyes. "And I'll lose my best friend."
"You couldn't lose me if you wanted to, ya big eejit," I grumbled, pulling him back in for a hug. "Now, pull yourself together," I ordered, slapping his back. "Sean's watching you."
"Uh, yeah." Clearing his throat, he took a step back and puffed his chest out. "It's all good," he choked out, forcing a smile that looked like he was in physical pain. "I'll be fine," he added, voice breaking on the last note. "Ah, fuck it, this is too hard. I'm going out to the car." Sobbing, he high-fived me and mumbled, "Best of luck, buddy," before striding off through the airport, wailing like a banshee.
"Jesus," I muttered, rubbing my jaw, staring after my best friend. "The rest of you better not pull that shite on me." I turned to stare at my family, and gave my weeping mother a wary look. "I'll be back before the end of summer."
"See ya on the telly," Tadhg said, fist bumping me. "I don't like rugby, but I figure since it's you, I'll watch your games."
"Wow." I smirked. "How generous of you."
He shrugged. "Meh, we'll see how it goes. I might switch it off if I get bored."
"Bye, Johnny," Ollie said then, pushing Tadhg aside to hug my legs. "Don't let the airplane crash and explode with you in it, okay?"
Jesus Christ… "Yeah, okay." I patted his back. "I'll be sure to tell the pilot to not kill me."
"Thanks," Ollie replied, mollified, as he skipped away. "'Cause I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you too, lad."
"I'm proud of you, son," Dad said as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. "More than I can say."
"Thanks, Da."
"I love you, Jonathan –" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat before adding, "very much."
"I love you, too, Da." Slapping him on the back, I took a step back and waited for my next mourner.
"My baby," Mam sobbed, throwing her arms around me. "My little boy."
"I'm 6'3, Ma," I coaxed, squeezing her tightly. "And eighteen. I'm a grown man."
"I don't care. You'll always be my baby," she cried, dragging my face down to smack half a dozen red lipstick kisses to my cheeks. "Now, you mind yourself over there, ya hear? Don't be taking any lifts off strangers. And only drink from bottles, not glasses, when you're out. And don't be letting any of the older lads on the team lead you astray –"
"It's okay, Ma," I soothed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes to the heavens. "I'll be in camp most of the time, so you have nothing to worry about."
"Don't be talking to any strangers, either," she added. "And if they look dodgy and they offer you anything, then you say no. Do you hear me, Jonathon?"
"Come on, Edel," Dad chuckled, physically removing my mother's arms from my neck. "He'll be fine. You raised him well."
"I'll see you real soon, okay?" I said, crouching down to speak to Sean who was tugging on the leg of my tracksuit. "I'll bring you back a big present."
"Onny," he sobbed, lip wobbling. "Me want Onny."
"I'll be back," I coaxed, feeling my heart crack in my chest. "I promise." Tipping his chin up, I wiped a tear off his cheek and smiled. "Are you going to take care of Sookie for me?"
Sniffling, he nodded.
"Good lad," I told him, ruffling his hair. "Now, no more crying because I'm going to phone you up, okay? I'm going to call the house and say 'Dellie, is my Seany there?'"
He smiled. "And me say 'my Onny there?'"
"That's right." Chuckling, I gave him a cuddle and stood back up while I still could and shouldered my carry-on bag.
"I'll see you really soon."
"Come on, boys." Mam sniffled, shepherding the Lynchs like they were her own personal flock of baby lambs. "John's going to buy us something in the toyshop."
"Score," Ollie and Tadhg hooted as they barreled after my mother, with Sean and my father trailing behind.
"Yeah, I really need you to not do that," I choked out, feeling everything inside of me crack clean open at the sight of her midnight-blue eyes filling up with tears. "Otherwise, I'm walking right out of here and coming home with you."
"I'm s-sorry." With tears streaming down her cheeks, Shannon hiccupped a small sob and walked straight into my arms. "It's j-just –"
"I know," I strangled out, dropping my bag off my shoulder to wrap her up in my arms. Burying my face in her neck, I inhaled the smell of her, desperately trying to keep my shit together. "Me too."
"I love you," she whispered, fingers digging into my neck as she pulled my face down to hers and kissed my lips. "A crazy fucking amount."
"I love you, too –" my voice cracked and I exhaled a strangled breath before adding, "Most in the world." Cupping her face in my hands, I just stared at her, locking away the image of her face in my mind and then coming close to losing it when I thought about how long it would be until I saw her again. "I'm coming home," I told her. "Regardless of what happens." Brushing a tear from her face, I kissed her damp cheek. "I'm coming back to you, Shannon like the river." Heaving out another ragged breath, I stroked her nose with mine. "I promise."
"You t-take your time," she sniffled. "You g-go and shine, o-okay?"
I nodded sadly. "Okay."
"I want you to s-succeed," she continued to say, breaking me with her tears, and putting me back together with her words. "I want you to k-kick ass, and be the b-best damn outside center this country has ever seen –" she paused to kiss me. "But don't forget that you'll always be my 13." She sniffled and wiped my cheek with her fingers. "My binding 13."
I choked out a pained laugh, thinking about that stupid bet. "You heard about that?"
"Yeah." Half-sobbing/ half-laughing, Shannon smiled and nodded. "I won."
"Hands down." I kissed her puffy lips. "Undisputed."
"Now, I'm keeping 13," she told me. "So come home to me when you're done, okay?"
"I will."
78
Summer Loving
Shannon
Dear Shannon,
It's me – Johnny. I'm writing this so I can, once again, surprise and impress you with my mad letter writing skills. Ta-da? See, I told you not to worry about that knock I took on the pitch last weekend. It looked worse on the telly than it felt – and I still remember how to write, buy a stamp, and post a letter, so my brain's still working. I hope this letter finds you well. I'm praying that you're missing me just as much as I'm missing you. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.
I'm at the training camp in South Africa with the senior team. I'm rooming with Mick fucking Flanagan, baby – our CAPTAIN…which I feel stupid as fuck writing down in a letter, considering we spoke about this on the phone an hour ago.
I miss you.
Every bit of me misses every bit of you. I miss the feel of you. Sleeping alongside you. Talking to you. Driving around Ballylaggin with you in the passenger seat. Fuck, I'm pretty sure I'm starting to miss your brothers, too. That's how bad this time apart is getting for me. It's not just the sex I miss, either, Shan – though my dick misses you with a ferocity bordering on pain.
Are you well? You always tell me you're fine on the phone, but I can hear sadness in your voice. I don't say it because it's the same for me. I'm learning that I don’t cope well when you're not around, Shan. I spend my nights stalking that bleeding Bebo account that Claire set up for you, and I tell you this without a single ounce of shame. * By the way, I made my own account so accept me as your other half please* …oh, and feel free to private mail me some nudes. I could do with some new material. My memory never seems to do you justice.
There's a beach here, about four miles from the team hotel, and every time I walk on the sand, I think of you. Of that day we spent at the beach back home.
You're in my mind all the time, Shannon. My heart, too. You did something to me all those months ago. I think you broke me, because I've not been right since. When we're apart like this, I feel unsteady, like I'm balancing a weight on my shoulders and my reward for not dropping it is seeing your face again.
So, yeah, there it is…
I'm going to tell you something in this letter, something I couldn’t say on the phone or in a text because I don’t think I could handle your immediate response…
I'm scared, Shannon. I feel like a fish out of water on this tour. The lads on the team? They're all so much older than me – with years more experience. They're real, grown up men, baby, and I feel like I'm a walking transplant, some young fucker running on luck and borrowed time.
I've never felt that way before. I don’t know what the hell I'm doing, to be honest. Most of the time, I'm two minutes away from throwing in the towel and catching the next flight home to you. I'm still here, though, because I made you a promise that I would shine… or sparkle, or whatever the hell it was that you asked me to do. There's talk of me actually starting this Saturday instead of coming off the bench, so maybe I'll get the job done then.
It's intense here, Shannon. It's like nothing I've ever experienced before. The U20's tour was a walk in the park in comparison to senior level. I started every single game – no pressure. But this? Jesus, my best is only middling in this quality of a team and that is enough to make me want to quit. I've never felt like quitting before – it's never crossed my mind. I'm working on trying to find my feet. Fighting for a jersey that's always been mine is unsettling. Knowing that there's half a dozen world class players ready to swoop in and take that from me if I put one foot out of place is a pressure I'm struggling to manage. I'm on edge all the time, Shannon… Maybe I'm just homesick, or maybe I'm overthinking things, or maybe I just left my head back in Cork with you?
On the plus side, I've gained a stone in muscle. I'm over 6'4 now, too. But enough of my bullshit; how's your summer going? Is Gibsie okay? Has Joey been in touch yet? Is Sean saying any new words? What about Aoife? Any sign of her? How's my Sook? Those boys better not be drawing on her. Do you have a tan? Are you smiling? Christ, I miss you…
I know you tell me everything is fine when we talk on the phone, but if you're like me, and find it too hard to talk over a phone, then maybe you could write me back with another letter of your own?
You know what? I don’t think my English essay in the junior cert was as long as this letter. What does that say about me? Note: I hope you're not worrying about those bleeding junior cert results. I know you kicked ass. Fuck, I love you. Did I write that down yet? Fuck it, if I haven't then here it is again. I love you Shannon Lynch. All of you. Every part.
Anyways, I'm running out of room to write on both sides of this paper so I'll take it as my cue to finish up. Oh, and could you ask my Ma to stop calling so much? I know she's missing me, but it's getting out of hand.
Yours always,
Johnny. x
* * *
(PS: My dick is still in my pants, and my love is still a crazy fucking amount.)
* * *
Carefully folding Johnny's letter back into its envelope, I tucked it under my pillow to join the others before reaching for the box sitting on my bed with my name on it.
Holding the box in my hands, I stared down at his neat handwriting and sighed longingly. Our communication these past six weeks had consisted of a steady flow of texting and late-night phone calls, letters, and packages, but it wasn't enough. Not by half. I could feel his anxiety dripping off the page and it hurt my heart. All I wanted to do was board a plane and go to him, but he would be home soon. A few days later than originally anticipated, but still, home was in sight.
"What did you get this time?" Ollie demanded, diving onto my bed, and almost giving me a heart att
ack in the process. "Aw, man, he sends you presents every day."
"Not every day, Ollie," I mumbled, blushing.
"You've had two packages a week since he left," Ollie groaned. "It's been six weeks. That makes twelve packages. I've had one."
"Because he's my boyfriend," I defended, even though I was grinning in delight. "Now back up so I can open it."
"It's because she lets him touch her boobs," Tadhg snickered from the doorway, where Bonnie, Sookie, and Cupcake were all nuzzling against his legs. "That's why she gets all those presents, Ol."
"Tadhg!" I choked out. "Don't say that."
"It's true," Tadhg laughed, scratching Cupcake's ear. "Deny it."
"First, you let him tongue kiss you, and now you're showing him your boobies?" Ollie groaned, clutching his stomach. "I feel a little sick in my guts."
"We don't do any of that," I lied through my teeth. "We only hold hands."
"Uh-huh," Tadhg snickered. "You keep telling yourself that, Shan."
"That's why he sent those tickets for the music festival he's taking her to when he comes home?" Ollie demanded. "So he can see her boobies?"
"Probably," Tadhg laughed.
Ignoring my brothers, I ripped open the box and grinned when I saw the green jersey with the number 13 etched on the back. Pulling it out, I held it to my chest, breathing in the smell of him. Shivering, I thought back to the conversation we'd had on the phone last week…
* * *
"You didn't!"
"Yeah, Shan, I did."
"You lie."
"Sometimes, but never to you."
"Impossible." I shook my head, not trusting this crazy talk. "Those concert tickets have been sold out for months."
"You underestimate my powers of persuasion, baby," he purred down the line. "I figured we could share a tent again."