by Chloe Walsh
Rugby was my life.
This was all I had.
But the laborious pace I was keeping today was so far off my usual standard that it was pathetic.
I was sluggish and the only reason it wasn’t noticeable was because this was school level.
If I dragged my ass like this at The Academy, where I played alongside the best players in the country, then I'd be instantly called out on it.
My body was on fire and I was moving on sheer will.
Everything hurt to the point where I had to breathe through my nose to stop myself from vomiting. I would pay for the exertion with a sleepless night of writhing in agony, half a dozen painkillers, and a scalding hot bath in Epsom salts.
But I couldn’t stop.
I fucking refused to give in.
If I gave Coach Mulcahy a single inkling that I wasn’t up to par, he would call the heads at The Academy.
And if he called The Academy, I was screwed.
I slowed my pace when I reached the end zone, walking it out, keeping my muscles loose and moving.
If I stopped short, I was going to seize up, and I intended on doing just that in the privacy of my own car.
Swiping a bottle of water off the ground, I paced the sideline like a mad-man for several minutes, desperately trying to walk off the pain.
I didn’t dare perform a post run stretch-out.
I wasn’t that much of a masochist.
When my heartrate returned to normal, I waited for coach to give me the nod for early dismissal, then headed back to the changing rooms, my job for the day completed.
I hadn't realized Gibsie had followed me up the path until I heard him let out an earsplitting wolf whistle. "You're looking well, Claire-Bear!"
Curious, I followed his train of vision only to find two familiar looking blondes huddled under the awning outside the science building.
One of said girls was scowling back at us with her middle finger directed towards my best friend.
"Watching me train again?" Gibsie called across the courtyard. "You know I love when you do that."
It took me a few seconds to recognize the leggy blonde as Hughie Biggs's baby sister.
"What was that?" Claire called back, cupping her ear with her hand. "I can't hear you."
"Go out with me!"
"Get stuffed, Gerard!"
"You know you want to," Gibsie laughed, twiddling his fingers at her in salute. "My little brown-eyed girl."
"Don’t do it, Gerard!" Claire's face turned bright red. "Don’t you dare sing that –"
Gibs cut her off with a verse of Van Morrison.
"I hate you, Gerard Gibson!" Claire hissed when he was done serenading her like a demented crow.
"And I love you, too," he laughed, before turning his attention to me and stifling a groan. "Jesus Christ," he groaned so that only I could hear him. "I swear to god, lad, that girl drives me crazy."
"You're already crazy," I reminded him. "You don’t need anyone's help with that."
"Look at her, Johnny," he groaned, ignoring my jab. "Look at how beautiful that girl is. Christ, it might be that sunshine hair, but I swear she glows."
"Don’t even think about it," were the words that came out of my mouth.
"I won't –for now," Gibs replied, eyes alight with mischief. "But I've a feeling that I'm going to marry her."
His comment stopped me in my tracks. "What?"
It was too weird.
Even for him.
"Providing we both make it out of our youth without any accidental babies," he added thoughtfully. "And her brother doesn’t cut my dick off first, of course."
"Claire's in third year," I deadpanned. "And she's your teammate's little sister. The fuck's wrong with you, Gibs?"
"Did I say I was going to marry her today?" Gibsie countered. "No, fucker, I did not, so clean your ears out. I meant when I'm old as fuck and I'm done sowing my wild oats."
"Old as fuck?" I gaped at him. "Sowing your wild oats?"
"Yeah." He shrugged. "You know, like thirty or something."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, word to the wise, Gibs: bag those wild oats while you're sowing them. And keep them far away from girls like that one."
"Hey – don’t give me those judgy eyes," Gibsie scoffed. "I always bag my shit. And there's nothing wrong with liking her. You're the one with the phobia to girls your own age, lad, not me."
Aware that we were having this extremely messed up conversation in the middle of the courtyard, I searched around to see if anyone was eavesdropping.
Gibsie wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but I'd feel pretty fucking bereft if Hughie was to hear him talking about his baby sister like this and murder him.
It was at that exact moment my gaze landed on the tiny brunette, laden down with an armful of books, skip down the steps of the science building and hurry over to the blondes.
A sudden swell of something filled my chest when I recognized the brunette as Shannon.
Goddammit, why did she have to look like that?
Why did every single thing about that tiny fucking girl scream out to me?
It wasn’t fair.
Actually, fuck fair, it was downright cruel.
It didn’t make any sense for me to find her attractive.
She was nothing like the girls I usually fucked around with.
I liked curves.
I loved tits.
And I was a sucker for a big ass.
She had none of the above.
But she had legs.
And hair.
And a smile.
And those fucking midnight blue eyes – which I didn’t think was a good enough word to describe the color.
They should have been called soul blue because they were deep as fuck and sucked a person right in…
And then she went and dropped her books.
They scattered on the ground and Shannon bent over to pick them up, causing her skirt to rise up way too fucking high.
Two smooth, pale thighs filled my vision, sending a surge of red flags shooting up in my brain and wave of heat to flush through my body.
"Ah shite," I muttered under my breath, caught off-guard by both the sight of her and my body's explosive reaction to the sight of her.
Dropping my gaze, I inhaled a few steadying breaths, desperately trying to regain control of my problematic dick.
"What's wrong?" Gibsie asked, looking around us for the source of my obvious discomfort.
"Nothing," I muttered, running an aggravated hand through my hair. "Let's go."
Gibsie, noticing my obvious issue, threw his head back at my reaction and howled laughing.
"Do you have a –holy shit, you do!" he choked out through fits of laughter. "And you're blushing!" He clapped me on the shoulder and snorted loudly. "Ah, lad, I love it."
"It's not my fault," I snarled as I thundered off in the direction of the changing rooms, walking like the rhinestone fucking cowboy. "I can't control it these days."
Ploughing into the changing rooms, I stripped off my clothes and went straight for the showers with the intention of burning the pain and discomfort out of my system.
It didn’t work.
My body was still in excruciating pain and I was still sporting a solid three-quarters.
Dropping my head, I stared down at the lower half of my body and debated my options.
But I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t touch my own damn dick.
I was too freaked out.
Vivid memories of that horrific trip to the emergency room and the god-awful warnings the doctors had given me at Christmas had officially screwed with my head.
Jesus, I was a goddamn mess.
Leaning my forehead against the tiled wall, I allowed the scalding water to wash over me while I waited for what felt like an eternity for my problem to resolve itself, biting down on my knuckles to bury my groans of pain.
Well if it wasn’t clear before that I needed to keep m
y distance, it certainly was now.
I had to stay away from that girl.
Christ…
"Feeling better?" Gibsie snickered when I finally walked back into the changing room, with a towel around waist.
We were still alone in here, thank god, since the rest of the team were catching up on laps.
Ignoring the quip, I turned my back to him and dropped my towel.
Before the surgery, I wouldn’t have thought twice about walking around bollocks naked in front of anyone.
Now, not so much.
Because aside from needing to keep my problem on the down-low, I was self-conscious.
It was yet another new and unwelcome feeling.
I had always been proud of my body. I had been blessed with natural muscle retention and physical strength, and I paid for every ab on my stomach with a grueling training regime.
I worked damn hard to keep myself in peak physical condition, but the purple balls, swollen sac, and oozing scar wasn’t something I wanted anyone to see.
Not even myself.
Which was why I didn’t look down when I pulled on a pair of clean jocks.
In my current state of frantic panic, denial was a river in Egypt and if I just kept plugging on, it would get better, because the alternative was not an option.
Giving in was not an option.
More time off was not an option.
Missing the summer campaign with the U20's was not an option.
Losing my spot on the starting squad because of weakness was not a fucking option.
Play and slay was my only option because I refused to crash and burn at seventeen.
"Are you alright, Johnny?" Gibsie asked, breaking the built-up silence.
His tone, for once, was serious which was why I responded with a clipped nod.
"Ready to talk about it yet?"
"Talk about what?"
"Whatever the hell it is that's been driving you demented since we came back from Christmas break."
"Nothing's bothering me," I replied, pulling my school trousers up my thighs. I buckled my belt and reached for my shirt.
"Bullshit," he countered.
"I'm grand," I added, quickly snapping my buttons back in place.
"You've been like a bear with a sore head since coming back to school after Christmas," he grumbled. "And don’t tell me it's because of your surgery because I know there's more to it–"
My phone began to ring then, distracting us both.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled it out, checked the screen, and then resisted the urge to fling it at the wall.
"Fucking Bella," I grumbled, canceling the call and tossing my phone back in my bag.
Gibsie grimaced. "What's going on there?"
"Nothing," I replied. "It's done with."
"Does Bella know that?"
"She should," I replied flatly. "She's the one who ended it."
"Yeah?"
"Yep." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhaled a calming breath before adding, "She's fucking around with Cormac Ryan now."
"And you're okay about it?"
"Don’t give a fuck if I'm being honest, lad," I replied flatly. "I'm more relieved than anything."
Gibsie shook his head. "You sure? You were messing around with her for a long time."
"I was done a long time ago, Gibs," I admitted. "Trust me, lad, all I want her to do is leave me the hell alone."
"Well, if that's true then it's the best news I've heard all year," Gibsie declared. "Because I honest to god cannot stomach that girl. She's a dangerous fucking female. I was half afraid you'd end up getting her pregnant and we'd be stuck with her for life."
"No chance of that happening," I told him as I repressed a shudder. "I always wrap my shit."
"She's a needle-in-a-condom type, lad," Gibsie shot back. "And you're a shining beacon of light for those girls –with a huge, neon, euro sign hanging over your head."
"I pull out," I shot back. "Always."
"Every time?"
"Why are you asking me about my sexual health?" I deadpanned.
Gibsie grimaced. "Because she's dirty."
"Gibs, you don’t say shite like that about a girl," I warned. "It's not on."
"I'm not saying that about just any girl." He shrugged and added, "I'm saying it about that girl."
"Well, I'm fine," I bit out. "Had my tests last month and I'm clean as a whistle."
"Thank god." He sighed, looking relieved. "Because she–"
"Can we not talk about her anymore?" I interrupted, thoroughly sickened at the thought of her. "I'm tired of hearing about her, Gibs."
"Okay, but let me ask you one more question," he replied. "Just one and I'll drop it."
I sighed wearily and waited for him to speak, knowing that it didn’t matter whether I agreed or not.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you relieved Bella ended whatever the fuck you'd call what you two were doing because you were tired of Bella?" He studied my face for a few moments before adding, "Or because you're into the girl?"
His question caused me to pause mid-button. "The girl?"
"Yeah, the girl."
"What girl?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"The fucking girl, Johnny," Gibsie growled, throwing his hands up. "The one you knocked out. The one I took a molesting off Dee for so I could get her file. The one you spend your days swapping gooey eyes with at school."
"Gooey eyes?" Pulling my jumper down over my stomach, I stepped into my shoes. "What the hell are gooey eyes?"
"Swooning eyes," Gibsie snapped, exasperated now. "Smoldering gazes. Fuck me looks. I want to eat your pussy signals." He shook his head and reached for a can of deodorant out of his gear bag. "Whatever you want to call them."
"You're tapped, Gibs," I announced, deciding on deflection. "Seriously man, sometimes I really worry about what's going on in that head of yours."
"There's nothing wrong with my head, Kavs. You're the one with the fucked-up eye twitch whenever that girl is about the place." He tossed the deodorant towards me and I caught it mid-air. "Don’t think I haven't copped what's going on there."
"Don’t know what you're talking about, lad." I reached under my shirt and sprayed my pits. "My eyes are in perfect working order."
"Your dick's in perfect working order, too," he shot back. He pulled his school jumper over his head and continued, "When that girl's around the place."
I took my time answering him for two reasons.
The first being I didn’t want to react on gut instinct and make a show of myself.
The second being I had no goddamn clue what to say.
Remaining silent, I concentrated on tying my shoelaces instead.
"Not going to answer me?" Gibsie probed, grinning.
"There's nothing to say," I bit out, focusing way too hard on making the perfect tie knot. "I'm not talking about her."
"Why not?" he pressed.
"Because I'm bleeding not, Gibs."
"Because you like her," Gibsie stated.
"Because she's not up for debate," I snapped.
Because you really like her," he corrected. "Because you want her."
I shot him a dirty look and then returned to staring at my shoes.
"I wish you would just admit it, lad," Gibsie mumbled.
"And I wish you would mind your own fucking business," I offered sarcastically. "It's getting old, lad. You don’t hear me giving you shite about your love life."
The minute the words were out of my mouth, and I saw his eyes light up, I regretted them.
"Ah, so you are contemplating getting with her?" Gibsie demanded excitedly, eyes dancing with sheer delight. "I fucking knew it."
"No," I corrected. "I'm not."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because?" he pushed.
"Because I'm fucking not, okay?" I barked. "Now drop it."
"You're ridiculous," Gibsie announced, tossing all his shit back into his gear bag. "You over
think everything, man. You talk about my head being messed up, but yours must be a fucking horrible place to be – what with all that over-analyzing you do."
"Leave it out, Gibs."
"I just don’t understand what the issue is," he argued. "I've seen the way you look at her. You clearly like Sharon."
"Her name isn't Sharon." I shot him a dirty look and then returned to packing up my bag. "It's Shannon, and I don’t like her."
"That was a trick question." He grinned. "And you passed with flying colors."
I grunted my response.
His grin widened even further when he said, "And yeah, you do."
"No, I fucking don’t."
"Well, I think you should ask this Shannon girl out," Gibsie added, hauling his bag onto his shoulder. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"I could get arrested," I offered sarcastically. "She's fifteen."
"No, you could not get arrested," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're seventeen, idiot, not seventy!"
"For three more months." I pulled my jumper on and stood up. "And besides, this conversation is irrelevant." Picking up my gear bag, I tossed it over my shoulder before adding, "I don’t ask girls out." I walked over to the changing room door and yanked it open. "I don’t have time for that shite."
"Hughie's girlfriend, Katie, is in the year below him," Gibsie offered, strolling out of the changing room. "And Pierce O' Neill is in our year and he's been knocking around with Claire's bitchy gal pal for ages – who is in third year, by the way."
"Hughie doesn’t have The Academy breathing down his neck," I replied flatly as I followed him outside. "And Pierce O' Neill can fool around with whoever the fuck he wants."
"Relax." Gibsie raised his hands. "All I'm saying is it wouldn’t be a big deal if you liked her."
"Don’t go there."
"It's natural to be attracted to a beautiful girl–"
"Stop it."
"No one would care if you asked her out."
"Seriously. Give it a rest."
"She watches you back, you know."
"Shut up, Gibsie."
"I've seen her doing it."
"Shut up, Gibsie."
"In the halls and the –"
"Shut the fuck up, Gibsie!"
"Fine," he huffed, scowling. "I won't talk."
I mentally counted in my head, wondering how long Gibsie could keep his mouth shut, but only got to seven when he started back up with his verbal bullshit.