Binding 13: Boys of Tommen #1

by Chloe Walsh

  "After Easter," I reminded her.

  "So?" she shot back. "It's still the best news ever."

  I laughed at her enthusiasm because, in all honesty, how could I not?

  It was infectious.

  "So, have you figured out how you're going to manage forty-eight hours in close quarters with Gerard?" I asked with a teasing lilt to my tone, thankful for the distraction from my life.

  Claire groaned loudly. "He drives me crazy, Shan."

  "He likes you," I told her. "And before you shut me down and tell me he likes everyone, I mean he really likes you, Claire. It's obvious when you guys are together that he's into you."

  It really was.

  At school, they watched each other's moves constantly.

  He was always coming over to her, cracking jokes and making pointless conversation.

  They behaved like an old married couple when they were together, with witty banter and quick retorts, and I couldn’t figure out why they weren't a couple already.

  It seemed so inevitable.

  "Having him carry on like that towards me is not a compliment," Claire grumbled when I called her out on it. Huffing, she added, "Any girl who walks past that boy turns his head."

  "Yeah, but you haven't just turned his head, Claire," I told her. "I think you've turned his heart."

  "You can't turn something that isn’t there, Shan," she replied, tone sad.

  "I don’t believe that," I countered.

  "That's because you don’t know him like I do," was all she replied.

  "Well, I think you and Gibsie together make sense," I pressed. "A lot more than Lizzie and Pierce."

  "That wouldn’t be hard," Claire chuckled. "Me and Mr. Mulcahy make more sense than those two."

  "True," I mused.

  "So, here's what we'll do," she said then. "You can keep me focused and away from Gerard when we're in Donegal, and I'll do the same for you with Johnny."

  I exhaled a shaky breath. "About that…"

  "Go on," she urged.

  Clenching my eyes shut, I blurted, "He dropped me home again."

  "What?" Claire shrieked.

  I blew out a breath. "I know."

  "Oh my god, Shan, what's this about?"

  "I really don’t know," I groaned, scrubbing my face with my hand. "I'm so confused."

  "Confused?"

  Deciding to give her full disclosure, I whispered, "He didn’t just drop me home, Claire. I went over to his house again."

  "Shut the front door," she gasped.

  Nodding, I groaned into my hand. "And I kissed him."

  "Shut the front door!" she repeated, louder now, and in a much more excited tone. "Where did this happen?"

  "In his bedroom," I confessed, and then reluctantly added, "On his bed."

  "Oh. My. God," she squealed. "Oh my bloody god, Shan!"

  "He didn’t kiss me back," I admitted, grimacing.

  "That bloody idiot," she growled, tone switching instantly.

  "I'm the idiot, Claire," I hurried to say, feeling just as mortified now as I was in his car on the drive of shame home. "What the hell was I thinking?"

  "Was he mean to you?" she demanded. "Because I'll kick his big, rugby-loving ass if he was mean to you –"

  "He wasn’t mean to me, Claire," I croaked out. "He was…lovely."

  "No, Shannon, you're the lovely one. He's a dick," Claire corrected angrily. "Because only a complete dick takes my best friend to his house, brings her up to his bedroom, and then, when she puts herself out there for the first time in her life, he goes and rejects her."

  "I kissed him, Claire," I whispered. "Not the other way around."

  "And he clearly didn’t deserve your kiss," Claire snipped. "You're too good for the big eejit."

  "I thought you liked Johnny?"

  "I used to," she agreed angrily. "I used to think he was a good guy. I used to think he was better than that reputation of his," she growled. "Not anymore."

  "It's my fault, Claire."

  "No, Shan," she growled. "He led you on, and you deserve so much better than having some rugbyhead asshole do that."

  "He really didn’t," I admitted. "It was all me."

  "I don’t care," she snipped. "He's an eejit."

  "What do I do now?" I asked, feeling unsure.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I have his jacket." I confessed. "I need to return it to him."

  "Why do you have his jacket?"

  "He gave it to me –" I paused before adding, "Actually this is the second one he's given me. He gave me his coat after school, too, but that one was soaked from the rain so he gave me another one."

  "There you go," she snapped. "Leading you on!"

  "I don’t think that's what he was doing," I argued weakly. "He was just being nice, Claire." Exhaling heavily, I added, "He's just a really good guy."

  "Fine," she sighed, relenting on her anger a little. "Just give his coat back to him at school tomorrow and be done with the big ape."

  "Okay," I replied, sad at the thought.

  "He's a fool, you know," she added. "You're gorgeous, and kind, and sweet, and loyal, and a million other brilliant things he'll never find in whores like that Bella Wilkinson."

  "Thank you," I replied, appreciating her attempt to console me. It wasn’t true, of course, but her words did help. "But you're not allowed to hate him because of this."

  "Really?" she whined. "Really?"

  "He didn’t do anything wrong, Claire," I pushed. "Seriously. He couldn’t have been nicer to me."

  "Then why didn’t he kiss you back?" she demanded.

  "Because he doesn’t want me," I bit out. "Obviously."

  "Then he's insane," she grumbled. "If I had a penis or liked girls, I would want you."

  "Thanks," I half sobbed/half laughed. "If I had a penis or liked girls, I'd want you, too."

  "So, we're really not going to hate him?"

  "No," I replied. "We're really not."

  "Ugh," Claire groaned. "Fine."

  "You're a great friend, Claire," I told her. "I don’t know what I'd do without you."

  "Am I a great enough friend that I get the details?"

  "What kind of details?" I asked nervously. "What do you want to know?"

  "All the details," she replied.

  Ugh.

  "It's so embarrassing," I whispered. "Humiliating, actually."

  "Okay, I'm sorry," she quickly replied. "You don’t have to talk about it."

  "He's beautiful," I whispered after a pause.

  "Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "Everybody already knows that."

  "No, Claire," I urged. "I mean he's really beautiful." Closing my eyes, I whispered, "Under the clothes."

  "Oh my god!" she screamed in my ear. "How do you know what's under his clothes?"

  "Because he took a shower and he was only half dressed when I came out –"

  "Came out of where?"

  "His shower."

  "Hold up!" Claire squeaked, "Did you take a shower with Johnny Kavanagh?"

  "What – no!" I shook my head. "I took a shower in his shower."

  "Okay, you need to take this back to the beginning because I'm losing the run of my filthy imagination here."

  "We were both soaked from the rain," I explained with a weary sigh. "His Mam took my clothes down to dry them. I used the shower in his ensuite. He took a separate shower. And then we both just sort of ended up in his room."

  "With no clothes on?"

  "He had jocks on," I replied, resisting the urge to tell her about what I saw before he had his jocks on. "That's it."

  "And you?" she pressed.

  "Just a towel." I bit down on my lip, feeling my face flame with heat. "I think I flashed him my, uh, you know…. and I don’t really know how it happened, but we both ended up on his bed," I hurried to say, keeping my voice low. "And then he was right there, like his face was so close to mine…" Exhaling a ragged breath, I added, "And I just lost my mind and kissed him."
r />   "God," Claire gasped. "It's like a watching a train wreck, except instead of watching it, I'm listening to it."

  "I know," I groaned. "And then I panicked and locked myself in his bathroom." I cringed at the memory. "And he was so kind to me, Claire. I mean, he could have flipped out and thrown me out, but he just kept talking to me from the other side of the door, trying to coax me out –"

  "Ugh, I can't," she moaned. "It hurts my heart too much."

  "He promised he wouldn’t talk about it if I came out," I continued to talk despite her protests, needing to get this off my chest. "Of course, he lied. When were back in his car, he gave me the talk –"

  "Not the talk," she breathed. "Please tell me he didn’t give you the talk."

  "He did," I strangled out. "And then he kept telling me that I didn’t need to be sorry and I think he meant it, but I'm just so embarrassed by it all. I swear, I will never put myself out there like that for anyone ever again."

  "Damn," Claire sighed. "I wish I didn’t have that stupid blitz tomorrow. I don’t want you being alone at school while you're feeling like this."

  "Me too," I agreed glumly. "At least Lizzie will be there."

  "Maybe don’t mention this to Liz," Claire interjected. "She'll cut his dick right off."

  "No one can know about this, Claire," I whispered. "No one."

  "Agreed."

  I clutched my stomach when another stabbing pain ricocheted through me, causing me to grunt once more in pain.

  "Hey – maybe you should take tomorrow off," she offered, sounding concerned. "You don’t sound too good."

  "I'll be okay," I whispered.

  And I would be.

  I hoped.

  49

  I fucked up

  Johnny

  "Morning," Gibsie acknowledged, sinking into the passenger seat of my car on Tuesday morning. "How'd training go yesterday?"

  "I fucked up!" I blurted out.

  "You fucked up?" Gibsie arched a brow as he buckled himself in. "In training?"

  "No." I shook my head. "I didn’t go."

  "Why not?'

  "Because I fucked up!"

  "How?"

  "Fuck." Groaning, I shifted into gear and pulled away from his house. "So fucking bad." Tightening my hands on the wheel, I released a pained growl. "So fucking, fucking bad, Gibs."

  "Are you going to say anything other than the word fuck?" he drawled as he pulled a blank CD out of his school bag and slid it into my CD case. "By the way, I burned this for you last night," he added with a smirk. "I think you'll enjoy it."

  "Thanks," I grumbled, too distracted to concentrate on anything other than my raging thoughts.

  "Now," Gibsie said, pulling out a box of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips and sparked up. "Are you going to tell me how you fucked up?"

  "Roll the window down," I grumbled. "You know I can't stand the smell of those things."

  "I presume this meltdown has something to do with little Shannon?" he offered as he rolled the window down and exhaled a cloud of smoke out of it.

  I nodded again, feeling panicky.

  All night, I had been waiting to get this shit off my chest.

  I could hardly breathe with the pressure in my body – that, and my regrets, and the smell of her on my sheets.

  I couldn’t even enjoy having dinner with my Da, something that because of conflicting schedules, we hadn't been able to do since New Year's Day.

  All through dinner last night, I was too lost inside my own head.

  I was too caught up in her.

  "I thought you liked me."

  Well, fuck me, my heart just about cracked when she said those words.

  "What did you do, Johnny?" Gibsie pushed, dragging me from my thoughts.

  "I did it again," I admitted.

  He eyed me warily. "You drove her home again?"

  Nodding, I released a strangled groan. "Except this time, I went one further and forced her into taking a spin home after school."

  "Johnny–"

  "I literally picked her up and put her in the fucking car, Gibs." Expelling another frustrated breath, I sagged back in my seat and groaned. "With my Ma."

  He laughed. "You are an idiot."

  "I know," I groaned. "And then Ma did what she does best."

  "She meddled," Gibsie filled in knowingly.

  "Brought her over to the house."

  Gibsie's brows shot up. "Your house?"

  "Oh yeah," I hissed, still feeling bitter. "Then she went and gave me the talk."

  Gibsie shuddered. "Oh, Jesus."

  "I know, lad." I shook my head, forcing myself to concentrate on the road. "It was brutal."

  "Where was Shannon when this talk was going on?"

  "That's the worst part," I replied with a grimace, as I indicated into the school. "Ma decided it would be a wonderful idea to make Shannon take a bleeding shower." I cast him an evil glare. "Another one."

  "Are you shitting me?" Gibsie snickered.

  "I shit you not," I bit out, turning up the familiar laneway to Tommen. "Ma also thought it was a fabulous fucking idea to take her clothes and put them in the dryer."

  "Stop. I can't. This is too priceless." He threw his head back and howled laughing. "Mammy Kavanagh's a better wingman than I am!"

  "Focus, Gibs!" I barked as I pulled into the carpark. "It was bad. Really fucking bad."

  "How bad?" he asked.

  I drove into my usual parking spot and killed the engine.

  "How bad, Johnny?" Gibsie coaxed.

  Exhaling a pained growl, I turned in my seat to face him. "She kissed me."

  Gibsie eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

  I nodded. "On my bed. In a towel. Looking like a fucking wet dream. She just fucking put her mouth on me, Gibs."

  "In a towel?"

  "Ma had her clothes, remember?" I strangled out. "She was wrapped in a towel and nothing else."

  Gibsie grinned. "Nothing else?"

  "Nothing else," I repeated, enunciating the word nothing.

  "Did you see–"

  "Yes," I snapped and then groaned loudly. "Fuck."

  "And?"

  "Perfect."

  "Fuck."

  "Yep."

  "Well, shit, lad," Gibsie mused, expression thoughtful as he scratched his jaw. "I would never have guessed she'd make the first move." Turning to look at me, he asked, "What did you do?"

  "Froze," I admitted with a pained exhale. "I completely fucking froze up, lad. And then she panicked and locked herself in the bathroom. It was a bleeding disaster. Took me ages to coax her out and even then, she wouldn’t talk more than three words to me on the drive back to her place."

  "That –" Gibsie shook his head, "is a disaster."

  "Of the highest order," I agreed glumly. "I tried to talk it out with her, but she wasn’t having it, lad. She didn’t want to hear a word I had to say."

  "What did you try and tell her?"

  "The truth?" I offered wearily. "That I'm leaving in a couple of months and can't commit to her."

  "You're a little stupid for a genius, aren’t ya?" Gibsie mused.

  I turned to glare at him. "Excuse me?"

  "You drive her home multiple times, you take her out to the pub, to the cinema, you bring her home to your house – twice – and then she kisses you and you reject her," he shot back. "What did you expect her to do? Sit there and listen to it?"

  "I did not fucking reject her," I spat. "I would never reject her!"

  "Oh, okay," Gibsie snickered. "Sure, you didn’t."

  "And you're the one who told me to be her friend," I accused.

  "Well, I was wrong," he chimed. "You can't do it. It'll never work. Give up now."

  "Yes, it will," I hissed. "It has to."

  "Why does it have to work?" he asked.

  "Because I need her–" I shook my head and expelled another frustrated breath. "Because I want to keep her in my life."

  "You want to keep her, period," Gibsie countered. "
Because you are ass over tit in love with that girl."

  "Stop it," I warned.

  "Fine." He threw his hands up. "I'll say no more about it."

  We sat in silence for a long time while Gibsie smoked another cigarette before I finally broke it by saying, "Do you know that she's insanely good at PlayStation? Like fucking gamer good?"

  Gibsie looked at me with surprise. "No shit?"

  I nodded. "She kicked my ass, lad. I've never seen anyone clear missions as fast as she did."

  He exhaled another cloud of smoke and tossed his cigarette out the window. "Did she have a cheat sheet with her?"

  "She didn’t need one," I muttered as I pressed a button and rolled up the windows. "She had every bleeding code memorized."

  "Oh, god," Gibsie groaned. "That is so fucking sexy."

  I pointed to the passenger door. "Get out of my car."

  "I'm not thinking about her like that," he laughed as he swung the door open and climbed out.

  Yeah, he fucking was.

  50

  Period Leaks and Hero Boys

  Shannon

  When I woke up on Tuesday morning, it took me a ridiculous amount of time to drag myself out of bed.

  I was in so much pain that all I wanted to do was bury my head under the duvet and stay there.

  Knowing that staying home from school meant spending all day in the same house as my father was a big enough incentive to go to school.

  But the thought of having to face Johnny again meant it was a close call.

  I didn’t feel right.

  My mind was reeling and my body was in agony.

  By the time I climbed off the bus at Tommen, my body felt like it was trying to hack itself apart from the inside out and it was starting with my stomach.

  I had Johnny's jacket washed, dried, and wrapped up in a plastic carrier bag in the front pocket of my schoolbag, ready to return to him, like Claire and I discussed.

  I intended to give it back to him and bolt.

  Better still, if I saw Gibsie, I could give it to him and be done with it.

  All morning, I watched out for him in the hallways, but we never crossed paths.

  A million and one ridiculous thoughts and worries filled my mind.

  Was he hurt?