Binding 13: Boys of Tommen #1

by Chloe Walsh

  My hands twitched on the wheel as I fought the urge to pull her onto my lap and hug her.

  "I'm not going to tell anyone anything," I said in as gentle a tone as I could muster.

  "You promise?" she croaked out.

  I nodded. "I promise."

  Shannon exhaled another ragged breath. "I'm sorry…it just…it happens when I get scared."

  My blood ran cold.

  "What are you scared of, Shannon?" I surprised myself by how calm I sounded when I was two seconds away from losing my shit right here in this car. "Did something happen?"

  "Happen?" she whispered, biting on her bottom lip.

  "At school?” I nodded slowly. "Was someone giving you hassle?"

  She closed her eyes and bit down even harder on her lip, so hard that I reached over and pulled it free from her teeth.

  "Don’t," I coaxed.

  Her eyes popped open. "Huh?"

  "You'll hurt yourself," I told her, retracting my hand even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "You don’t need to be sorry," I replied in a thick tone.

  Shannon dropped her gaze to stare at her clasped hands and after an achingly long pause of silence, she nodded to herself.

  "I better go inside now," she finally said, voice small. "Thanks for the spin."

  I watched as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door and panic flared to life inside of my stomach, which made no sense because I didn’t know what the fuck I was worrying about.

  "You'd tell me, right?" I called after her when she was out of my car. "If something was happening to you?" I leaned over the passenger seat to look at her, knowing I was making a hash of this, but needing to say it anyway. "You'd tell me if someone was giving you trouble at school?"

  Shannon stood with her hand gripping my car door for the longest moment, big blue eyes locked on mine.

  Finally, she nodded.

  I felt my body sag in relief.

  "Bye, Johnny," she whispered and then she closed the door.

  "Bye, Shannon," I muttered to myself as I turned the key in the engine.

  I needed to get out of here before I did something really stupid, like put her back in my car and take her home with me.

  Because a fucked-up glitch in my brain told me to do just that.

  Leaving her felt all wrong.

  Drive away, Johnny.

  Turn the car around and leave.

  She's fine.

  She's perfectly fine.

  Concentrate on the game, Kav.

  You have training.

  You not need to be losing your head over a girl.

  Shaking my head, I switched the car into gear and forced myself to get a bleeding grip of myself and just drive.

  It didn’t work.

  Because I couldn’t go.

  Throwing the car into neutral, I shoved open my car door and climbed out. "Wait!"

  Shannon spun around and stared at me with wide eyes. "Huh?"

  What are you doing, Kav?

  What the fuck are you doing?

  "Come with me." The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop myself or take them back.

  "Come where with you?" Shannon whispered, gaze flicking from me to the house down the street.

  I don’t know, Shannon.

  I don’t fucking know.

  I have no bleeding clue what’s happening to me.

  I just know that my gut is telling me not to leave you right now.

  "Anywhere?" I offered, and then cleared my throat before adding, "We could go for drive? Or get something to eat?"

  Jesus, what was wrong with me?

  I saw something flash across her eyes then, something that looked an awful lot like relief.

  "You want me to?" Shannon asked in a small voice. "Come with you?"

  I nodded uncertainly. "Yeah, Shannon." My voice was thick. "I want you to come with me."

  26

  The boy's a hero

  Shannon

  I was back in his car.

  I had no idea where we were going, or why Johnny had asked me to come with him in the first place after driving me all the way home, but in this moment, I didn’t care.

  I didn’t care that he hurt my feelings last week.

  And I didn’t care that I could get into trouble for being with him.

  When he opened that passenger door of his car and offered me a temporary escape from the hell that was my home, I took it.

  I more than took it.

  I practically dove into that seat.

  Forty-five minutes later, I found myself sitting across from him at this bar in town called Biddies, with a half-eaten bowl of soup in front of me, a bottle of coke, and a racing heart.

  The moment we stepped through the door of the bustling pub, everyone inside had turned around and honed in on Johnny.

  It was incredibly intimidating just watching him try to deal with the attention thrown at him.

  I was overwhelmed, so I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Johnny.

  He was only seventeen.

  Just like that day on the pitch with the reporters, Johnny was nothing but professional, accepting handshakes and claps on the shoulder while we waited at the bar for one of the waitresses.

  I was so distracted by the attention he received, and the hand he kept on my lower back as he spoke, that I just nodded when he leaned into my ear and asked me if I was hungry.

  It took a further five minutes of talking to random people before we finally sat down at the only empty table in the bar.

  I felt absolutely mortified that he had bought me food, and I would have protested and offered to pay, but I didn’t have any money.

  I didn’t have anything to offer this boy.

  Nothing at all.

  "How are you feeling now?" Johnny asked, stirring me from my thoughts.

  My head snapped up from where I had been staring at my hands, and I found him watching me from across the small, round table.

  That familiar burn ignited inside of my tummy as I forced myself to meet his gaze. I had his coat wrapped tightly around me, but that didn’t stop me from shivering.

  "I'm, uh, I'm feeling a lot better now," I replied, blushing from the weight of his stare. "Thanks."

  "Good." Johnny leaned back in his chair, eyes still locked on me, and tapped a beer mat on the table absentmindedly. "I'm glad."

  "Thanks for dinner," I added, feeling shy and awkward and a million other emotions. "I really appreciate it."

  For some reason my words drew a huge smile from Johnny.

  "You consider a bowl of soup to be dinner?" he asked, grinning so wide his dimples appeared.

  "Well, it was a huge bowl," I offered with a shrug "So, yeah, I would consider it dinner."

  "It's soup, Shannon," Johnny chuckled. “It's practically water."

  "Why?" I eyed the empty plate and bowl in front of him. "Are you still hungry?"

  He couldn’t be.

  I'd just watched him inhale a gigantic bowl of soup, before following it up with a mountain of veg and chicken.

  It was physically impossible to be hungry after consuming that volume of food.

  Johnny snorted. "This was a snack."

  "A snack?" I rested my elbows on the table and asked, "You're planning on having another dinner when you get home?"

  "I'll probably eat at least four more times before I go to bed," he told me.

  My mouth fell open. "But it's five o clock."

  "I know." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "You should see what I put away on a daily basis. It would probably shock you."

  "Well, you're not fat for a guy who eats so much," I blurted out and immediately regretted my words.

  Johnny laughed softly. "No, I'm not."

  I turned the color of crimson.

  "I'm so sorry," I choked out. "I didn’t mean to call you –"

  "Don’t apologize," he told me, still smiling. "I train. Har
d. I need the fuel to pump my body."

  "Because of the rugby?" I asked, tucking my rain damp hair behind my ears.

  Johnny nodded. "I need to consume 4,500 calories daily when I'm in training."

  My jaw dropped again. "How is that humanly possible?"

  Johnny smirked. "I make it work."

  "How?" I asked, thoroughly intrigued now.

  "By spacing out my meals," he explained. "Eat the right stuff at the right time." He shrugged before adding, "I usually eat every two or three hours. My nutritionist says that's the best fit for my body."

  "So, you're on a feeding schedule?" Snickering, I added, "Like a baby."

  Johnny flashed me an indulgent smile and took a deep swig of his diluted orange.

  Ignoring the loud group of girls at a nearby table, I concentrated on the boy in front of me. "So, you can't have anything nice?"

  "Define nice?"

  "Coke. Chocolate. Ice-Cream. Crisps," I reeled off a shortlist of my favorite treats. "Fizzy jellies. Coco pops. Pizza. Cheeseburgers. Chips. Chinese food. Donuts–"

  "I'm in the middle of a season," Johnny interrupted, giving me an affronted look. "The only thing that goes into my body is organic, unprocessed, and loaded with protein."

  I gaped at him. "Not even a rich-tea biscuit?"

  Johnny shook his head.

  "Why – oh my god! Is it because you would get into trouble with those rugby academy people?" My eyes widened at the injustice. "My brother Joey told me about how they groom young boys like puppies." Horrified, I asked, "Do they give you a list of banned foods and then punish you if you eat them?"

  "No," Johnny drawled slowly, frowning now. "The fuck kind of place do you think The Academy is?"

  "If you're not allowed to eat treats, then a terrible place," I answered solemnly.

  "Eating clean is my choice," he explained, watching me with a bemused expression. "I'm not forced to do anything. My life is on my terms. And not stuffing my face with processed, sugar-loaded shite is called being healthy and exercising self-control."

  "But all the time?" I questioned. "Like 24/7?"

  "I have an all or nothing attitude," he replied. "I'm either all in with something or I'm not wasting my time. There's no point doing something half-arsed."

  "Well, I'm sad for you," I announced. "You don’t know what you're missing."

  Slipping my hand into my skirt pocket, I dragged out the half-eaten chocolate bar – my favorite brand – took a quick peek to check the waitress wasn’t watching me bring food on the premises, before dangling it in front of his face.

  "The smell is the best part," I told him. "And you get endorphins from these, too."

  His lips twitched. "I train six hours a day, Shannon. I don’t need to supplement endorphins with a chocolate bar."

  Ripping off the wrapping, I held it in front of his nose for a few moments.

  "Sniff it," I encouraged, feeling oddly at ease with him. "Go on."

  "Get out of it," Johnny laughed, gently batting my hand away.

  "Your loss," I said with a shrug, then bit off a square of chocolate, moaning when the delicious chocolatey goodness hit my tongue.

  "Your gain," he scoffed, as he swirled a clunk of ice around in his glass.

  "Wow," I snorted, slipping the chocolate back into my pocket. "If I was a bigger girl, you could have seriously hurt my feelings."

  "What?" Panic flashed across his face. "Fuck, no! It was a joke." He leaned forward in his seat. "I didn’t mean…I wasn’t calling you fat…You're the tiniest thing I've ever…Shite, you're so small I could –"

  "Relax," I snickered. "I'm not offended."

  Johnny stared at me for a long beat and then released a heavy breath.

  "Jesus Christ, I almost had a heart attack there." Rubbing his chest, he smiled impishly. "I know how mental most girls can get over their weight."

  "Well, I'm not like most girls," I replied with a grimace and gestured to myself. "As you can see."

  "No," Johnny confirmed quietly, eyes following my hand movements. "No, you're not."

  There was a long, uncomfortable pause where we both stared at each other.

  The silence was disconcerting, but not nearly as unnerving as the intensity in his blue eyes.

  They were too sharp.

  Too all-seeing.

  Too much.

  "Do you want another coke?" Johnny asked, breaking the tension.

  "Uh…" I glanced at my watch and then back to him. "I don’t know."

  Johnny frowned. "You don’t know?"

  Yes.

  No.

  Go home before your father finds out you're in a pub and kills you.

  No, stay here with him.

  God…

  I shrugged helplessly.

  "Well, are you thirsty?" he asked. "Do you think you would like another drink?"

  "I…" I glanced around nervously, only to find dozens of pairs of eyes trained on our table.

  My heartbeat skyrocketed.

  I did not like this.

  Not one bit.

  "Shannon?" Johnny said, capturing my attention once more. He was looking at me expectantly, wallet in hand. "Will I get you another drink?"

  "Uh…" Scooting closer, I leaned over the table and gestured for Johnny to come closer.

  Frowning, he did.

  "Johnny," I whispered in his ear. "I feel like we're being watched."

  Pulling back, I looked around again and noticed the table of teenage girls had somehow pushed closer to ours. My eyes flicked to his and I nodded vigorously. "People are definitely watching us, Johnny."

  Johnny looked incredibly irritated when he exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about this."

  "Is it because of the rugby?"

  He gave me a resigned looking nod. "I'm sorry. Just ignore them."

  "How?" I croaked out, feeling very exposed in this moment.

  Johnny stared at me for a long moment, unspeaking, before pushing back his chair and standing up.

  "Come on," he announced, holding his hand out for me. "I'll get you another drink and we'll sit in the lounge."

  "The lounge?"

  "It's quieter." He looked around and muttered, "Maybe we'll get some peace and fucking quiet," under his breath.

  He didn’t like this, either.

  He might act like it didn’t bother him.

  But this wasn’t something he was comfortable with.

  It was with this realization that I found myself taking his outstretched hand.

  Overwhelmed, I followed Johnny to the bar where he ordered us more drinks, before walking through a door at the side of the bar and into a dimly lit room.

  This room had more of a youthful feel to it, with pool tables and dart boards on the walls, and a juke box playing in the corner.

  I noticed several teenagers sporting a range of different school uniforms from the local district lounging around.

  Like when we walked into the main bar, everyone turned to look at him, but after a few head nods and 'how's it going, Kav', they turned back to their company.

  Johnny led me over to a table in the far corner of the lounge, but this time instead of taking one of the bar stools on the other side of the table, he set our drinks down and sat down on the leather bench beside me.

  From here, we had a perfect view of the rest of the room, with the perk of being slightly tucked out of the way.

  You should go home, Shannon, my common sense commanded, you should not be here.

  "Better?" Johnny asked, settling down beside me.

  I nodded and reached for my coke, eyes locked on the goings on around me.

  I could see several boys at the far side of the lounge wearing BCS uniforms, and that made me want to crawl under the table and hide.

  I was so nervous that I had to use both hands to stop the bottle from shaking.

  Seeing Ciara Maloney, my greatest tormentor from my old school, and the giver of my eyelid scar, sitting amongst them made my e
ntire body coil up with dread.

  Like she could sense me watching her, Ciara turned her face in my direction.

  Great.

  Just bloody great.

  The moment she recognized me, that familiar glint of malicious intent flashed in her eyes for about two seconds before her gaze moved to Johnny who was sitting beside me.

  Her mouth visibly fell open and she began to nudge the girl sitting beside her, Hannah Daly – her best friend and another one of my bullies.

  We were being watched again.

  But now, it had more to do with me being hated than him being the local celebrity.

  Panicked, I dropped my gaze to the glass bottle clasped between my hands.

  Breathe, Shannon.

  Just breathe…

  "You're a lying, little whore," Ciara snarled as she pinned me to the wall behind the school and glared down at me. "You were looking at him."

  Knowing it was safer to say nothing, I kept my mouth shut and mentally prepared myself for the beating I knew I would receive.

  "Answer me, bitch!" she snarled, slamming my shoulders into the concrete, causing the air to expel from my lungs in a loud, pained groan.

  Several of the girls standing around us all laughed and sneered when a whimper tore from my throat.

  I was already aching in more ways than any of these girls could comprehend – my father's latest whiskey tantrum the cause of my pain – and they were enjoying my obvious discomfort.

  It wasn’t anything new to me.

  I was used to being laughed at.

  I was used to being the punching bag.

  And I hated myself for accepting it.

  When Ciara shoved me into the wall again, I forced myself to swallow down the sob that was threatening to erupt from my throat, forcing the words, "I didn’t look at your boyfriend," out instead. "He looked at me."

  That was the truth.

  Her boyfriend had a horrible habit of staring at me.

  My explanation earned me a slap across the face and a fistful of my hair to be yanked so roughly that I staggered forward, feeling weak and powerless.

  "I'm going to fucking destroy you," she hissed in my ear before tearing her nails down the side of my cheek.

  Go for it, I thought to myself.

  But you can't destroy what's already broken…