Binding 13: Boys of Tommen #1

by Chloe Walsh

  "I'm not lying to you!"

  "Then tell me what's going on," he demanded, running a hand through his hair. Exhaling a frustrated growl, he added, "Please tell me before I lose my shit and crack up."

  Oh, god.

  Mortified, I waved for Johnny to come closer, and when he did, I leaned up on my tiptoes and whispered into his ear, "I'm after getting my period."

  I closed my eyes when I said this, mentally kicking myself for telling him this.

  "It's my first one," I quickly rambled on, watching his side profile carefully as I indulged him with my worst nightmare. "And I'm in some serious pain."

  Rocking back down on my heels, I exhaled shakily and peeked up at his face, expecting him to turn and run for the hills.

  Johnny certainly looked horrified, and his entire frame had frozen, but he didn’t run, and the hand he had on my elbow didn’t move either.

  It tightened.

  Rooted to the spot, I stared up at him in terror while he mirrored me.

  "You coming, Kav?" one of his friends called out.

  Johnny waved a hand, gesturing that he was busy.

  "Johnny?"

  "Fuck off, Feely," he growled. "I'm talking here."

  "Alright, lad, but we're heading down town for lun–"

  "I said I'm fucking talking here!" Johnny snarled. "Piss off."

  "I probably shouldn’t have told you that," I quickly finished, stepping back, putting some space between us, cheeks burning an unflattering shade of scarlet. "Go on with your friend. I'm fine."

  "That's what's wrong?" he asked, ignoring my words, blue eyes searching mine. "That's why you're crying?"

  "Yeah," I whispered.

  "You're in pain?"

  I bit down on my lip and forced another small nod.

  He blew out a breath. "I have some ibuprofen in my gear bag for my adductor." He looked at me with a hopeful expression. "Would those help?"

  "God, yes," I sighed, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me at the thought of pain relief.

  "My bag's in the changing room in the P.E hall," he stated, gesturing towards the entrance. "Come with me."

  I glanced uncertainly to where Bella was still watching me and debated my next move before deciding to go with Johnny.

  I needed the medicine and he was throwing me a lifejacket by offering me a temporary escape.

  Shame or pain, Shannon, shame or pain?

  Shame, I decided, and fell into step with him.

  "Slut!" Bella called out, loudly enough to garner everyone's attention.

  I groaned internally.

  "That's right," she hissed when my step faltered. "I'm talking about you, slut!"

  "Don’t," I begged when I felt him stiffen beside me. "Johnny, please don’t do anythi–"

  Johnny didn’t give me a chance to finish before he swung around and stormed over to where Bella was standing. "You're one to fucking talk!"

  Frozen to the mortal spot, I watched their heated interaction, knowing this was my perfect opportunity to bolt, but unable to make my legs run.

  I was exhausted from running away, and somewhere deep inside the back of my mind, I wondered if this boy was the one to anchor me.

  It certainly seemed that way when I heard him roaring profanities right back at a screeching Bella.

  A large crowd was gathering around to watch, and it didn’t seem to faze Johnny one bit.

  "Leave her the fuck alone," he was barking. "She's not your business."

  "You're my business," Bella screamed back at him.

  Johnny threw his hands in the air. "You're delusional."

  "I take it you were lying to me when you said nothing was going on?" she snarled.

  "Take it whatever way you want, Bella. I couldn’t give a flying fuck what you think," he shot back loudly. "Just leave her out of your bullshit scheming."

  He was defending me.

  Not my brother.

  Not Claire.

  Not Lizzie.

  Not a teacher.

  No, this boy who made my heart jackknife in my chest at regular intervals and my common sense flatline, was standing in the middle of the school hallway, defending my honor.

  He had rejected me last night, and today he was taking on my bullies.

  My mind was spinning, I felt so confused.

  "Her, Johnny?" Bella hissed, casting a scathing look at me. "Seriously?"

  "Stay away from her," he warned in a menacing tone. "Push back on this and you won't like the results."

  "Are you threatening me?" she hissed. "What do you think your coaches at The Academy will say about that?"

  "Why don’t you call them and find out?" he spat before turning on his heels and stalking back to where I was.

  His expression was so thunderous that I felt myself shrink away.

  "Come on," Johnny ordered when he reached me. He placed a hand on my lower back and urged me to walk. "We're leaving."

  Unsure, I let him guide me away from the staring crowd.

  "Where are we going?" I whispered, hurrying to keep his pace.

  "Away from here," he bit out, jaw clenching.

  "Why?"

  "Because if I stay here and she says something to you, I'll lose my shit. If you stay here and she says something to you, I'll lose my shit, " he explained in a tight tone. "Therefore, I need to go –" he paused to pull the glass door open and usher me outside, "and you need to come with me," he finished, leading me into the rain.

  "I, uh, yeah, okay," I whispered as I hurried along beside him.

  My emotions were whishing through me as he led me out through the courtyard.

  "You lied to me, Shannon," Johnny stated quietly as he steered us towards the P.E hall. "She said something to you."

  "I didn’t want to cause any trouble," I admitted.

  "That wasn’t your call to make," he replied. "Did you lie about her hitting you, too? About why you're in pain?"

  "No," I croaked out. "That part was true."

  Regrettably.

  "And your neck?"

  "That wasn’t her," was all I replied.

  Johnny was quiet for a long moment.

  "Don’t ever lie to me again," he finally said in a quiet tone, as he cast me a sideways glance. "I can't take it."

  "I won't," I told him, hating the lie as it fell from my lips.

  We reached the P.E. hall and hurried inside, both glad to get out of the rain.

  I shuffled behind him, this area of the school was more his forte than it was mine.

  I kept my eyes trained on his back, walking after him.

  I hesitated when he sauntered into the boys changing room, but then he held the door open for me and gestured me inside with an expectant look.

  Like a skittish foal, I hurried inside only to jump in surprise when the heavy door slammed closed behind us.

  The overpowering smell of teenage boy was the first thing that hit me.

  The stench of sweat, deodorant, and bodily fluids was so strong I had to force back the urge to gag.

  It wasn’t a smell I was unfamiliar with – Joey anyone? – but this particular stench was eye watering, intensified by the fact that forty or so from the opposite sex used this room at any given time.

  Feeling completely out of place, and with my nostrils thoroughly violated, I watched Johnny stroll over to a bench on the right-hand side of the room.

  He sank down on the bench, dragged a bag out from beneath his legs and quickly unzipped it.

  "Come here," he ordered as he rummaged around inside of his bag, pulling out socks, cans of deodorant, and empty bottles of Lucozade sport. "Come here, Shannon," he repeated calmly.

  So, I did.

  I walked over to where he was.

  Johnny elbowed a random schoolbag off the bench and gestured to the space he had made. "Sit down."

  I eyed the bench warily.

  Shaking his head, Johnny reached up and snagged my hand.

  "Sit down," he coaxed, pulling me down on the bench bes
ide him.

  Our shoulders brushed and I skittered an inch or two away, before wrapping my arms around my stomach.

  He was big and strong and intimidatingly beautiful.

  I felt very small around him.

  Very young.

  Very uncertain.

  Very rejected.

  I was intimidated, not because he was scary, he wasn’t, or at least I didn’t find him scary. I'm sure he terrified the guys he played, but that's not what was happening here.

  Not for me.

  No, I was intimidated because he looked like that and I was infinitely inferior.

  Whatever spark of hope I had in my heart quenched out.

  He would never look at me when he could have the likes of Bella at his disposal.

  They matched.

  He was suited with her.

  Someone who looked like a page three model.

  Someone who looked like a woman worthy of that.

  I was a teenage girl with a bad case of lust.

  "Fucking finally," Johnny muttered, dragging out a rectangular box of ibuprofen from the side pocket of his bag.

  He popped two small tablets out from the foil encasement then held them out to me.

  Clumsily, I tried and failed to take the tablets from his fingers.

  Flushed, I tried again and again, failing miserably until I managed to knock them out of his hands altogether.

  "Relax," he encouraged, stooping down to scoop up the pills. I watched him wipe them on the front of his hoodie and then he blew my mind with three words, "Open your mouth."

  I gaped. "I can do it."

  "You obviously can't," he shot back, smirking. "Open your mouth."

  I sat there stumped for several long beats before finally opening my mouth.

  He dropped the two small pills on my tongue and winked.

  Reaching into his bag, he thrust a capped bottle of water into my hands and said, "Drink."

  I did.

  Like a well-trained dog, I did exactly what he told me to.

  Annoyed with myself for being so compliant, and then annoyed even further for being pissed with a boy who was clearly taking time out of his lunch break to help me, I swallowed the tablets and sighed.

  I waited for Johnny to stand up and tell me he needed to go back to his friends, but he didn’t.

  He just sat there with me while the pain relief took effect.

  He didn’t mock or run.

  He didn’t react in the way most boys would.

  He took control of the situation.

  I knew right there that he was exceptionally special and that it had nothing to do with his sporting capabilities.

  He was exceptional on the inside, too.

  "Do you need to go back for lunch?" I croaked out. "I'll be okay in a bit–"

  "I'm happy to stay," Johnny quickly cut me off by saying. He rubbed his neck with his hand and said, "I like the peace and quiet."

  So, we sat.

  We sat and said nothing.

  Not one single word.

  I was feeling a multitude of emotions right now, ranging from shame to mortification to fear, but with every minute that passed, I slowly calmed down.

  Several long minutes of unspoken silence passed between us when Johnny finally broke it by clearing his throat. "How's it now?"

  "Not as bad," I whispered, relieved with the speed in which the medication was working. "I don’t feel like I'm being stabbed by a thousand blunt knives anymore."

  He frowned in horror and I shook my head, annoyed at myself for once again disclosing too much information to him.

  "I don’t know shite all about what's going on with your, uh, your body," he added, cheeks turning pink. "But I hope it fucks off soon."

  His words, so crass and boyish, yet sincere and caring, caused a small laugh to crack through my nervousness.

  "I don’t think it works that way," I replied, forcing myself to look him in the eye. "But thanks for helping me."

  "Have to say, it's a first for me." He frowned at the thought before muttering, "Thank fucking god."

  "Oh, god, I'm sorry." I jumped up to leave, but he caught a hold of my hand, pulling me back down on the bench.

  "I don’t want you to be sorry," he said gruffly. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I just meant that I don’t have any sisters so this shite is foreign to me."

  "I bet," I mumbled, embarrassed.

  Did he think of me as a sister?

  It certainly sounded like he did.

  He certainly reacted to my kiss like he did.

  Had I been sister-zoned?

  "Stop overthinking," Johnny instructed in a coaxing tone, distracting me from my internal battle. "Everything's fine."

  I turned to look at him. "What makes you think I'm overthinking?"

  He shrugged, smiling this amazing boyish grin at me. "Am I wrong?"

  No.

  No, of course he wasn’t.

  Overthinking was my specialty.

  Dammit.

  "I can't help it," I admitted, feeling my face heat up. "It's in my nature. I'm a born worrier."

  "Well," he sighed. "One thing you don’t need to worry about is Bella."

  The minute I heard her name, I automatically began to worry.

  Worry and overthink.

  What would she say next?

  What would she do?

  Was I going to get a hiding from her the next time she caught me in the bathrooms?

  Should I run now?

  "Stop," Johnny ordered, intercepting my panic. "You don’t need to worry about her." He leaned back against the wall and hooked his hands together on his lap. "If she even thinks about coming at you again, I'll know about it and I'll sort it."

  "She has your jacket," I blurted out. "I washed it and brought it to school to give it back to you, but she, uh, took it off me."

  "I have plenty more jackets," he replied. "I'm just sorry she gave you shite over me. That shouldn’t have happened to you. I'd tell you that she's psychotic, but you've probably already figured that out on your own."

  "She's mad about you, Johnny," I told him, voice small.

  And so am I…

  "She's mad about my lifestyle," he corrected with a heavy sigh. "She doesn’t even know me, Shannon."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm a prize to her. A shiny trophy," he muttered under his breath. "That's all I am to most people."

  "Not to me," I told him.

  Johnny looked at me.

  I forced myself not to turn away.

  "No?" I could see frustration and hope flashing around in his blue eyes.

  "No," I confirmed quietly.

  "Well, that's good to know," he replied, blue eyes locked on mine, tone gruff.

  "I'm really sorry for what I did last night," I whispered, forcing myself to address the elephant in the room.

  "Shannon." Johnny leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and sighed heavily. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

  "There is," I mumbled. "I shouldn’t have done that." Shaking my head, I resisted the urge to bolt, choosing instead to be a grown up about the situation. Tricky thing to do given my age and rampant emotions around this boy, but I did it. "It won't happen again."

  "I don’t want you to be sorry, Shannon," he replied gruffly.

  I exhaled shakily. "You don’t?"

  He shook his head slowly. "No."

  And just like that, the air changed around us.

  "I should probably go," I whispered, quickly breaking the tension.

  I stood up before I did something stupid, like kiss him.

  Oh wait, I already did that.

  Ugh...

  "There's a bus going my route at 2 o clock with my name on it."

  And if I get home before six, I won't have to deal with my Dad.

  Johnny frowned. "You're not going back to class?"

  I shook my head. "No, I need to go home and uh, sort myself out."

  "Yeah, uh, right," he muttered. "Of
course." He checked his watch and said, "It's quarter to two now," before turning his gaze back on me. "I'll drive you."

  I opened my mouth to say no, but Johnny got there first.

  "I want to take you home," he told me. "I need to make sure you're okay."

  "Why?"

  "I just do." Standing up, Johnny reached for my bag and tossed it over his shoulder before turning to look at me. "Let me take you home, Shannon."

  Don’t do it, Shannon.

  Don’t put yourself through it again.

  And don’t you dare get your hopes up.

  I blew out a ragged breath. "Yeah, okay."

  51

  Losing the run of myself

  Johnny

  Shannon was in my car again.

  So much for not bulldozing.

  They might as well slap a JCB sticker on my forehead and switch on my hazards, I seemed to do so much of it around this girl.

  And I was nervous – so much that my stupid fucking heart could have been a strong contender for Olympic gold in boxing, it was thumping around so hard in my chest.

  Fucking Bella.

  She needed to get a bleeding life and stop interfering in mine.

  She needed to step the hell back and let go.

  Messing around with Shannon was something I would not tolerate.

  I hoped she got that message loud and clear today, because I was not fucking around.

  Not when it came to the girl sitting beside me.

  "Are you warm enough?" Blasting the heater in her face probably wasn’t my brightest idea, but I didn’t know what to do.

  I had zero experience with the fucked-up workings of the female body.

  I only knew about the fun parts.

  Already, I had forced my hoodie over her head and shoved tablets down her throat in my pathetic attempt to help.

  I wanted to make her better.

  I wanted to make it right.

  In whatever way she needed me to do it.

  I just didn’t know how.

  Whatever she needed from me, I was more than willing to provide.

  That was a sobering thought.

  Jesus Christ, I'd opened myself up to danger with this girl.

  "I'm okay," Shannon replied as she settled into the passenger seat of my car.

  She pulled her long brown hair out from the collar of my hoodie and draped it over her shoulder.

  "Thanks again," she added shyly. "I promise I'll give this one back to you."