by Chloe Walsh
"Oh, she's uh–" I paused to tuck a drenched tendril of hair behind my ear, "She's a lot better now."
"That's good," he said, and it sounded like he genuinely meant it. "You were at home helping her last week? That's why you didn’t come to school?"
"Um, yeah, she needed some help after the, uh, the –" I shook my head before adding, "Mam's okay now. She's back to work and everything."
Johnny's brows shot up. "So soon?"
You're one to talk, Mr. Adductor…
I shrugged. "That's what she wanted."
"What about you?" Johnny asked then.
I frowned. "What about me?"
His blue eyes burned holes in mine when he said, "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," I croaked out, feeling incredibly nervous to be so close to him again.
"You know," he mused. "I'm starting to really dislike that word."
"Well, I am," I choked out. "Okay, that is."
"That's good," he said. "And your family–"
"I really don’t want to talk about it," I said in a small voice. Ever again. "We're moving on from it, so I'd prefer not to be reminded," I added. "If that's okay?"
"Shite, yeah," he muttered. "I won't say another word about it."
I sagged in relief.
"I'm also really sorry," I croaked out. "For the way we imposed on you at your house that day."
"What?" Johnny frowned at me. "You didn’t impose on me."
"I really did," I admitted, embarrassed. "And so did Joey."
"Shannon, I don’t feel that way," he told me, tone gruff. "I don’t – so don’t think like that. Okay?"
"Okay." I nodded. "Well, I should probably get going now." Smiling weakly, I offered him a small wave and said, "Bye, Johnny," before turning on my heels and walking away.
See, progress!
I wasn’t running.
"Wait," Johnny called out, his voice coming from close behind me. "Are you walking home?"
Irrationally affected by his close proximity, I gripped the shoulder straps of my bag and nodded but didn’t stop walking.
"In this weather?" he asked, falling into step beside me.
"No, I'm just walking to the bus stop," I explained quietly, keeping my eyes trained on the footpath ahead of me, careful to avoid the overflow of rainwater that seemed to be bubbling out of every drain.
It wasn’t an easy feat, what with my heart trying to burst its way out of my chest.
That was another thing I needed to work on: controlling my body's reaction around this boy.
He was walking beside me and every time he took a step, his arm brushed against mine.
It was clearly accidental, I doubted he even noticed it, and he was so big I was sure he couldn’t help it, but that didn’t mean my body didn’t react to the feel of him.
At least I was burning up now.
It helped with the damp.
"What time's your bus at again?" Johnny asked, voice deep and gravelly.
Shivering, I swiped a raindrop off my lip with my tongue before replying, "I get the half five bus every day."
"That's over an hour from now."
I didn’t respond.
I just kept walking.
"Are you planning on standing around in the rain for an hour?" he asked, stepping in front of me and halting me in my tracks.
We were both like drenched rats from the downpour, and I had to avert my eyes to stop myself from admiring the way his wet hair clung to his forehead.
He had gorgeous hair.
He had a gorgeous smell, too.
One I couldn’t stop myself from inhaling as he stood far too close to me for comfort.
Lynx deodorant, freshly cut grass, and boy all rolled into one.
Who was I kidding; he had a gorgeous everything.
When I dragged my thoughts back to the present and shrugged, Johnny let out an impatient growl, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through me.
"Come on," he said gruffly. "I'll take you home."
Oh no.
Sweet baby Jesus, no.
"No." I quickly shook my head. "You're grand."
He arched a brow, getting all up in my personal space with his gigantic frame. "Why not?"
"Because you dropped me home," I replied, taking a safe step back.
"So?" he countered, taking another step towards me.
"So, that's enough." I tucked my chin into my chest and tried to step around him. "Thanks anyway."
Again, Johnny blocked my path, caging me in with his huge frame.
And just like before, I had to crane my neck up to look at him.
"You'd rather stand in the rain for an hour than take a spin from me?" he asked, eyes wild and heated. "Why?"
Because your on-again/off-again girlfriend may or may not want to cause grievous bodily harm to me.
Because the first time I got in a car with you, it ended badly.
Because the second time I got in a car with you, I almost told you secrets.
And mostly because the way you make me feel scares me.
When I didn’t respond, because I honestly couldn’t, Johnny let out another growl but this one sounded like he was frustrated. "Are you mad at me?"
"Mad at you?" I shook my head, eyes wide. "No, no, of course I'm not."
"Then why are you being like this?"
"Being like what?"
"Avoiding me," he said quietly.
"I'm not," I lied. "I just…I just…"
"You just what, Shannon?"
I shrugged, at a complete loss for words.
He shook his head, dropped his bag on the ground, and then reached forward, swiping my schoolbag off my shoulders – both shoulders, and with minimal effort.
Shocked, I watched as he tossed my bag on the ground alongside his before lowering the zipper on his designer looking jacket and shrugging it off.
"Wh-what are you doing?" I strangled out, teeth chattering from the cold.
"What do you think I'm doing?" he countered as he reached behind me and placed the hood of his jacket on my head and wrapped it around my shoulders. "You're getting soaked out here."
"But you won't have a jacket," I blurted out.
"But you will," he shot back. "Now, are you going to put your arms in the sleeves, or am I going to have to do it for you?"
When I failed to assist him, quite frankly I was too stunned to do anything other than gape at him, Johnny grabbed both ends of the jacket and zipped it up to my chin, leaving my hands trapped at my sides, the empty sleeves swaying beside me.
He pulled the hood forward, covering my hair from the rain, and then reached down and grabbed both of our bags.
"Now," he said, nodding his approval, as he tossed a bag over either shoulder. "Let's go. I'm taking you home. Ma's probably waiting down by the gates."
"Your mother?" I squeezed out.
"Yes," he replied. "My car's in the garage for a service."
"But I don’t know your mother," I blurted out. I tried to flail my arms out for emphasis, but the zipped jacket gave me little room to do so.
"You know me," was his response.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Johnny strode off down the footpath – with my school bag.
"Move your legs, Shannon," he called out over his shoulder, not looking back at me. "Before we both get struck down with pneumonia."
I was so gobsmacked by his actions that I did exactly what Johnny told me to.
I moved my legs.
Hurrying after him, I weaved around the rain puddles and cracks in the pavement.
It was hard enough to keep up with him in my two-inch heels, and damn near impossible to keep my balance with my arms trapped to my sides.
"Crap," I squeaked when I miscalculated a jump and landed in the freezing puddle.
It wasn’t a regular puddle either.
No, this was an Irish puddle, consisting of a good five inches of muddy, sludgy, ice-cold rain water.
Immediately, the water
began to fill my shoes, making it unbearable to walk.
Hopping on one foot, I wrestled an arm out beneath the jacket and pulled off my shoe.
Tipping it upside down, I watched in dismay as a slosh of water spilled out.
My poor sock was drenched through.
My calves were specked with leaves and brown slush.
I groaned in dismay as I slipped my foot back into my shoe, then proceeded to empty the other shoe.
"What are you doing?" Johnny called out from up ahead of me.
"There's water in my shoe," I called back, while muttering a string of curse words all directed at the Irish weather. "I can't walk in them like this. Just give me a sec– whoa…"
My shoe slipped from my grasp and I lunged for it.
Bad idea considering I was balancing on one foot and my arms were trapped.
Feeling like a noodle, I managed to snag my shoe mid-air, only to lose it again when I couldn’t find my footing.
My shoe flew out of my hand and I flailed backwards, trying and failing to keep myself upright.
Knowing it was a lost cause, I gave up the battle and braced my body for the impact I was sure to feel.
I fell backwards, my ass grazing the concrete for the briefest moment, before I was heaved back up.
With one hand fisted in the front of the jacket I was wearing, Johnny quite literally held me hovering off the ground like my body was something obscenely miniscule and weightless.
It wasn’t.
I weighed six stone three pounds, but you wouldn’t have guessed it by the way he dangled me from one arm.
"Nice catch," I finally breathed, looking up at his face with a mixture of shock and admiration, as he held my entire body up with one hand.
His lips twitched. "Thanks."
"Well, you're definitely better at catching than throwing."
Smirking, Johnny dragged me to my feet before pulling the zipper of the jacket open and freeing my hands.
"Better?" he asked, his hands settling on the slight curves of my waist.
Not really because I could feel the heat of his hands on my body, and even though a full layer of clothes separated his touch from my flesh, I still felt it all the way down to my toes.
This was bad.
This was so not good.
Red-faced and blushing, I latched onto his forearms, balancing on my one sheathed foot, and blurted out the only thing I could think of in this moment, "I don’t want to get beaten up."
His hands tightened on my waist as he stared down at my face. "Who would beat you up?"
"Your girlfriend."
"I don’t have a girlfriend," he replied slowly, wariness and confusion etched on his face. "You know this."
"Bella."
"Did she say something to you?" Johnny demanded, tone hard, expression angry.
I shook my head.
He cocked a brow. No?"
"No," I confirmed quietly.
"You're sure she hasn’t said anything to you?" he probed.
"I'm sure," I replied. "But I don’t want to give her a reason to."
Johnny stared hard at me and repeated his earlier statement with a few tweaks. "She was never my girlfriend, Shannon."
"Yeah, well, a couple of the girls in my class were saying that you had a –"
"You were talking about me?" he interrupted, a hard edge to his tone. "With them?"
"No." I shook my head. "They were talking about you. To me."
Johnny arched an indignant brow. "Is there a difference?"
"Yes." I nodded. "A big one." I swallowed deeply and shook my head. "Listen, Johnny, I don’t need…I can't get into any more ..." Exhaling a ragged breath, I forced myself to look at him. "I don’t want to get hurt because you spoke to me." My words came out fast and breathy. "I don’t need that kind of trouble in my life. I'm not a fighter. I need to keep my head down and get through school with no drama."
There was a long pause of silence where neither of us spoke.
"You think I'd let anyone hurt you?" Johnny finally asked, his eyes dark and intense and focused solely on my face. "You think I'd let anything bad happen to you, Shannon like the river?"
I stared up at him, unsure of what to say and uncertain of my feelings.
When I didn’t respond, Johnny released a low growl and shook his head, causing droplets of rain to spray my face.
"Because I won't," he answered his own question by saying. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you," he added, blue eyes dark and locked on mine. "Because I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?"
I nodded uncertainly. "Okay?"
He watched me carefully, eyes heated and locked on mine. "Do you believe me?"
"I want to," I breathed as my fingers dug into the hard plains of his shoulders –my body's helpless reaction to his words.
God, I want to…
"Good," he replied gruffly, stepping closer, hands tightening on my waistline. "I want that, too."
A strange heaviness settled over us then as the never-ending cycle of rain continued to pelt down.
Like a pressured sensation.
Like the air had grown thin around us.
He was staring down at me, looking both annoyed and excited.
It was a confusing look.
I didn’t know what to make of it.
A huge, black Range Rover SUV pulled up alongside us then, breaking the weird tension, and saving me from blurting out something dangerous.
The tinted-out window rolled down and a woman's head popped out.
"Johnny?" the woman inside the Range Rover called out. She was blonde and beautiful and looked mildly horrified as she stared at us. "What are you doing to that poor girl?"
"That's my Ma," Johnny muttered, glancing briefly at his mother before returning his attention to me. "Come on."
"Wait!" I croaked out, gripping his arms before he could go, still balancing on one foot. "What about my shoe?"
Johnny glanced down at my feet and then behind me.
Releasing a heavy sigh, he hooked an arm around my waist, pulled me to his side, hoisted me clean off the ground, and walked us over to the jeep.
He yanked the back door open with one hand and deposited me into the backseat with the other before jogging back to the footpath to retrieve our discarded bags.
"I'm soaking wet," I warned, feeling embarrassed at the thought of ruining the expensive upholstery of the car.
"Seriously, Johnny," I added with a shiver when he returned to the door with our bags. "I'm soaked right through my clothes."
His lips twitched for the briefest moment and then he shook his head as if waving off an unwelcome thought that had come to him.
"Ma, this is my, ah – this is Shannon," he acknowledged, looking clearly uncomfortable. He cast a nervous glance to me and then turned back to his mother, clearing his throat twice before adding, "She's my uh… she's new." He shoved me further into the back seat of his mother's jeep and then tossed both bags in alongside me. "I told her we'd drop her home."
"Hello, Shannon," his mother said, turning in her seat to flash me a megawatt smile.
"Shannon, this is my Ma," he announced gruffly. "I'll, ah, go and find your shoe."
He closed the car door then, locking me inside with his mother, and jogged away.
Mortified, I slumped into the backseat of his mother's Range Rover.
Well, this wasn’t awkward.
This wasn’t awkward at all.
Trying not to hyperventilate with burning discomfort was surprisingly difficult considering I was sure full-blown hypothermia was setting in.
"N-nice to m-meet you, Mrs. Kavanagh," I chattered, knees bopping restlessly, as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
I was so unbelievably out of my comfort zone that I had no clue what to do.
Knowing that I was dripping water all over this kind lady's leather interior wasn’t helping matters either. "Th-thank you f-for the s-spin."
"It's Edel, love," she replied, sou
nding distracted as she watched out the window. "What in the name of Jesus is that young fella of mine doing now?"
Muttering several profanities to herself, Mrs. Kavanagh pressed a button on the door and her window rolled down.
"Johnny!" she called out. "What are you doing running around in the rain, ya bleeding eejit? Get in!"
"He's looking for a shoe," I pointed out, cheeks flaming. "My shoe – I dropped it." More like flung it. "He's trying to find it for me."
Mrs. Kavanagh turned around to grin at me, but her smile faltered, her expression morphing into a concerned frown.
"Oh, god," she gasped. "Look at you shaking. You must be perished."
I was perished.
I was beyond perished.
My body was jolting violently as the dampness of my clothes continued to assault my skin.
Johnny's mother turned the heater on full blast, and I groaned in relief as a wave of heat hit my face.
She slipped the chunky knit cardigan she was wearing off her shoulders and draped it over my legs.
"Now, pet," she said in a soothing tone. "We'll get you warmed up in no time."
"Th-thank you s-so much," I replied as I slowly withered inside. Her small act of kindness was overwhelming to me. "I don’t want to d-dirty your c-cardigan."
"That's what washing machines are for," she replied, smile returning.
Whoa, Johnny's mother was beautiful.
And extremely well dressed.
Seriously, her clothes were like wow.
Everything matched, from her earrings to her belt.
Fashion designer, remember, my brain hissed, of course she's going to look good.
With blonde hair and brown eyes, Mrs. Kavanagh didn’t look much like her son, but he had definitely inherited her bone structure and full lips.
Johnny was right about her Dublin accent though; it was thick and much more distinct than his.
"Looks like you have a fan," Mrs. Kavanagh added, pointing to where Johnny was jogging up and down the footpath, scouring the ground and dikes for my missing shoe.
Crap, I hoped it hadn't floated away in the drain water.
Dad would hit the roof if I came home with another expense.
"He's done a terrible job of keeping you quiet." Mrs. Kavanagh added with a smile. "I saw you in the papers with him the other week. Beautiful picture, love. You two look absolutely stunning together."
Did she think…