by Chloe Walsh
"No problem." Clenching my jaw, I forced myself to keep my eyes on the road and not on the way her skirt was hidden beneath the hem of my hoodie and how high said hoodie rode up her bare thighs when she was sitting. "Keep it."
"Sorry?"
"The hoodie." Clearing my throat, I tightened my hand on the wheel to keep myself from doing something reckless. "Hang on to it."
"Why?"
I could feel her blue eyes on me, I knew that sounded thick, but I could, and the sensation caused my arms to break out in goosebumps.
I shrugged. "Because it looks good on you."
Johnny, you bleeding eejit!
"Are you feeling better?" I hurried to ask – and distract. "Did the ibuprofen help?"
I glanced over at her and bit back a groan.
She was so fucking beautiful it was painful, with those big blue eyes staring back at me all innocent and full of uncertainty.
I didn’t need the temptation that came with being this close to her.
Problem was, every time she ran, I found myself chasing right after her, desperate to just be with her.
"I'm okay, Johnny," she replied in a small voice. "You've helped me." She smiled shyly. "Again."
I snapped my gaze back on the road and fought to get my body under control. "It's no problem." I had no idea what this girl was doing to me, but I was burning the hell up. "Anytime."
"I like your music," Shannon said then, giving me a welcome distraction from my wayward thoughts. "You have good taste."
"Go on," I encouraged when her fingers fluttered towards the stereo. Reaching over, I snatched my iPod that was attached to my stereo off the dashboard and handed it to her. "Find something you like."
"Are you sure?" she asked, voice small and uncertain.
I nodded and smiled, trying to reassure her.
It must have worked because she whispered, "I love them all," as she began to flick through track after track. "You have amazing taste."
"Thanks." I shifted uncomfortably, feeling a weird tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach. "I like good music."
Spending countless hours working out alone gave me the opportunity to broaden my taste.
"Me, too," she agreed. "And your music is epic."
It wasn’t that I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of compliments.
It was just that they usually revolved around rugby.
Shannon clearly wasn’t impressed or fazed by my role.
It was both a relief and a worry.
I didn’t know how to handle that.
She was confusing the shite out of me.
"I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Beatle's fan," Shannon mused, stopping on an old number. "Here Comes the Sun?" she questioned, brow arched. "You like this one?"
"It's my favorite one of theirs," I told her, palms sweating under her scrutiny.
"Me too," she said softly. "My Great-Granda Murphy used to sing this to me when I was little."
I glanced over at her. "Yeah?"
Shannon nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, whenever I got scared or nervous, he would always sit me on his lap and sing those lyrics in my ear." She sighed contently. "And it always worked."
For some unknown reason, I made a mental note of that piece of information and stored it away for future reference.
Shannon was silent then, clearly immersed in the song.
Meanwhile, I held the steering wheel with a death grip, desperately trying to concentrate on the road ahead and not the girl sitting beside me, fucking up my well laid plans.
"Do you have an iPod?" I asked when I pulled up outside her house – her actual house this time.
I was stalling, not wanting her to get out of my car.
The pang of disappointment I felt when we reached our destination was the same one that consumed me every time she left, and that was incredibly disconcerting.
"I could put some of my music on it for you?" I offered. "If you'd like?"
"Me?" Shannon blushed bright pink and shook her head. "Uh, no, I could never afford one of those." She unfastened her seatbelt. "I use an old CD discman of Joey's to listen to music."
I nodded nonchalantly while mentally kicking the shite out of myself for being so dense.
"You like the classics?" I blurted, feeling all panicky when she reached for the door handle.
"Yes," she replied, turning back to face me, eyes bright with excitement. "Do you?"
"I like a lot of stuff," I told her.
You, most of all.
"Shake it off baby?"
My brows shot up. "Excuse me?"
"Shake it off baby." Shannon stared back at me all innocent and cute. "Do you like it?"
It took me a few seconds to realize she wasn’t calling me baby and that she was referring to a song.
"You mean Twist and Shout," I corrected gruffly. "Yeah, that's a good one."
"Do you like Reckless Kelly?" she asked then.
I shook my head. "I don’t think I've ever heard of them."
"They have this new song out called Wicked Twisted Road," she explained. "Are you sure you haven't heard it?"
My heart stopped in my chest.
That song from the pub.
The one that fucked with my head.
Jesus…
"You should," Shannon continued to say. "Listen to it, I mean." Her cheeks turned pink when she said, "It reminds me of you."
Rattled.
I was thoroughly fucking rattled by this girl.
Partially because I had related to the words of that song, but mostly because she related the words of the song to me.
Her red lips and rosy cheeks were fucking beautiful and I had to take a moment before I could form a coherent sentence and not sound like a fucking eejit.
"I'll do that," was all I came up with.
"Well, thanks for saving me," she whispered. Her eyes darted from my eyes to my mouth several times before she leaned over and pressed her lips to my cheek. "Again."
It was the smallest, briefest, non-sexiest peck, but it had come from her lips and that changed everything.
Just like last night had changed everything.
It deepened everything I had been desperately trying to deny.
The signs I had been hiding from.
They shot up like neon posters on the sides of buildings.
I was so fucking thrown off kilter by this girl.
Stunned, I could do nothing but stare at her and mutter the words, "You're welcome."
With glowing red cheeks, Shannon pushed the car door open and moved to climb out.
"Wait!" I regrettably called out, snaking a hand out and catching her wrist.
Shannon looked at me with wide eyes.
Let her go, asshole.
Let the girl go.
You can't do right by her.
"Here –" Reaching into the glove compartment, I pulled out a leather case and quickly flicked through a bunch of mix CDs, stopping when I found the one I wanted, "Listen to track nine." I practically shoved the CD into her hand and shrugged, "Reminds me of you."
"Oh, okay," she replied, holding the CD carefully. "I will."
"Good."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Bye, Johnny," she whispered before quickly closing the door and hurrying away.
"Bye, Shannon," I replied gruffly, watching her every move as she walked away from me.
Trouble.
I was in so much fucking trouble.
I drove the whole way home on autopilot with my brain reeling, my hormones raging, and life throwing a tiny, brown-haired plot twist in my path.
I was so consumed in my thoughts that it wasn’t until I parked up in my usual spot out back that I noticed her schoolbag was still in my car.
Groaning, I slapped my head on the wheel and prayed for an intervention.
I needed one.
Because this girl was going to ruin me.
Half an hour later, I was standing outside Sha
nnon's front door with sweaty palms and a racing heart.
What the hell was I doing here?
This was madness.
Put the schoolbag down and walk the fuck away, the sensible part of me instructed.
But of course, I didn’t listen.
No, because I had to knock instead.
The sound of footsteps pattering on the staircase came from the other side of the door followed by a key twisting in the lock, and then she was there, standing in front of me, obliterating any notion of walking away.
"Hi, Johnny," Shannon said in a breathy voice, staring up at me all wide-eyed and lethal. "You're back."
Yeah, I was back.
Like a bad fucking smell that seemed to follow her around.
"Uh, yeah, I'm back." Shaking my head, I pulled her bag off my shoulder and held it out for her. "You forgot this in my car again."
"I'm so sorry." She blushed the most adorable shade of pink. "Were you knocking for long?" She reached for her bag and then heaved it into the house. "I was in the shower."
Yeah, I could tell.
Her long hair was loose, flowing down her body in damp curls, she was wearing a white vest and the tiniest pair of pajama shorts I'd ever seen in my life and all my brain could register was bare skin – way too much bare skin.
"Don’t be sorry," I said gruffly, trying to focus on my words and not my wayward thoughts. "And no, I just got here."
"Well, thanks for bringing it back to me," Shannon said, dragging my attention back to her face. "I didn’t even notice. I would have been in a major panic in the morning."
"Again, it's no bother," I replied and then proceeded to stare at her like a fucking tool.
Well, this wasn’t awkward at all.
Move your feet, Johnny.
Leave the girl alone.
"Do you have training this evening?" she asked.
Yes.
"No."
"Do you want to come inside?" she offered nervously.
My brows shot up. "Inside?"
She bit down on her bottom lip and shrugged.
She looked unsure.
Like she shouldn’t be inviting me into her house.
"Do you want me to come inside?" I asked with a frown.
She nodded shyly and opened the door inwards. "If you want to?"
Don’t do it, lad, my brain warned, don’t put yourself in temptation’s way.
Against my better judgment, I stepped inside.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I watched as Shannon quickly locked the door again.
I focused my attention on her and not my dilapidated surroundings.
The place was tidy, but the walls badly needed re-plastering and a fresh lick of paint.
"There won't be anyone home until evening time," she announced as she led me through the short hallway and into the kitchen.
That was not good information.
Not good at all.
"Would you like a can of Coke?" Pulling open the fridge, she retrieved two cans and smiled. "Joey's addicted and he always buys the real brand stuff."
She held a can out to me and I shook my head.
"I can't drink that," I replied, and then felt like a tool when her smile fell.
"Oh."
"I want to," I quickly assured her. "But I'm in training."
"Oh, yeah," she mumbled, placing one of the cans back in the fridge. "I forgot about the rugby thing."
I bit back a smile. "Yeah, the rugby thing."
She stared up at me then, looking as unsure as I felt.
"Do you want to come up to my room?"
My brows shot up – matching the sudden spike in my heart rate. "Your room?"
Blushing, she tucked her hair behind her ear, and hurried to say, "It's just that I don’t normally stay down here …I mean I do, but I don’t…because…I…." Her voice trailed off and she sighed heavily. "Never mind, it was a stupid–"
"Okay."
Her eyes widened. "Okay?"
I nodded. "Lead the way."
I waited until Shannon had turned around before slapping the heel of my hand against my forehead.
I was so fucking stupid.
This was worse than coming inside.
This was wrong.
I knew it was.
And still, I followed her up a narrow staircase, avoiding rogue Legos and stepping over children's toys on the ascent.
The bedroom Shannon led me into at the front of the house was a glorified box room.
She stepped around me, which wasn’t easy in small quarters, and turned the lock on her door before walking the four steps it took to reach her bed.
Meanwhile, I stood like a tool in her tiny bedroom, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do now.
The single bed pushed against the far side of the room took up the entire width of the wall. There was a bedside locker next to it, a chest of drawers shoved against the opposite wall, and not a lot else.
"It's a small house for a family of eight," Shannon acknowledged quietly, noticing my staring. She set her Coke down on her bedside locker and shrugged. "I'm the only girl so I get the box room."
"It's a nice room," I replied as I walked over to her bed and sat down.
I was already in the danger zone.
I might as well be comfortable.
"Don’t lie," she said with a sad smile. "It's a dump."
"No," I corrected. "It's nice."
I glanced around her tiny, purple painted bedroom, looking for a television set and came up empty.
She didn’t have one.
Didn’t have a stereo system either.
But she had books.
A lot of them.
"You weren't messing when you said you liked to read," I mused, eyeing several piles of neatly stacked books on her bedroom floor under the windowsill. Turning back to face her, I grinned. "Are you a little swat, Shannon Lynch?"
"Believe me, I wish I could call myself a swat," she replied with a grimace. "I love to read but I'm not academically smart."
I frowned at her in disbelief. "Bullshit."
"No, I'm really not," she replied, shaking her head. "I have to work so hard to keep up in my classes, and most of those are ordinary level subjects."
"What subjects give you the most trouble?" I asked, relaxing into the conversation.
This, I could handle.
Learning more about her fed the beast – and distracted the other beast.
"Business," Shannon replied, scrunching her nose up at the thought. "And Maths – I'm terrible with numbers."
"Those are my best subjects," I mused, scratching my jaw. "I’m taking Business and Accounting for the leaving cert next year."
"What else are you taking?" she asked, sounding genuinely interested.
"Irish, English, Maths, Accounting, Business –" I shifted until my back was resting against the wall before continuing, "History and French."
"Why French?"
Because there's a high chance I'll be moving there once I'm done with school.
"I need a language for university," I said instead. "French was a good fit for me."
"Higher level?" Shannon asked, looking impressed.
I nodded.
"Really?" Her eyes widened. "Which ones?"
"All of them."
"Why am I not surprised?" Shannon quipped as she tucked her legs beneath her and sat facing me. "And you called me a swat."
"School has never been an issue for me," I admitted with a frown.
"Lucky you," she whispered. "I barely scraped through the Pre's."
"I can give you a hand," I heard myself offer without thinking it through.
"What – like now?" she squeaked.
"Or later." I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Whenever you want."
"Is that something you do?" Shannon asked, watching me with those big, uncertain eyes of hers. "Do you tutor other students?"
I'd tutor you.
"You have your junior cert coming up in June,
right?" I asked instead.
Shannon nodded.
"I've been through it already," I explained, desperately trying to keep my tone impassive and light. "If you need someone to go through the coursework with you, then just let me know."
"You would do that for me?" she asked, voice soft.
I would do pretty much anything for you.
"Yeah," I replied, unable to keep the gruffness out of my tone. "I would."
"But you're so busy."
"Doesn’t matter."
"Why are you always trying to help me, Johnny?" she whispered, blue eyes burning holes inside of me.
There was the million-dollar question.
And I had no fucking clue how to answer it.
"Because I want to," I finally said, deciding on the truth. "I want to help you, Shannon."
"You do?" she breathed.
"I do." Tearing my gaze off her before I did something stupid, I shifted around to get comfortable on her tiny ass bed and said, "Now, go get your books and you can show me where you're finding it difficult."
"Yeah, okay," Shannon replied as she scrambled off the bed and hurried to the door. "Are you sure?" she stopped in the doorway to ask me.
No.
"I'm always sure, Shannon."
Smiling, she nodded and then hurried back down stairs to get her bag.
"Fuck." Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I typed out a quick SOS message to Gibsie, only to delete it before sending it.
Exhaling a frustrated breath, I typed out another text, this one to Jason, letting him know I wouldn’t make this afternoon's hydro pool session and then quickly shut my phone off before he could call to give me a litany of abuse.
I already knew I was doing wrong.
I'd missed yesterday's session and two more a couple of weeks back.
Because of her.
Because when she jumped, I flew clean off the ledge after her.
Didn’t need my trainer to tell me something I already knew.
He'd tell me I needed to get my head back in the game.
He'd scream at me and tell me to focus on my future – on the upcoming fitness test I needed to pass more than I needed to breathe.
Problem was, I couldn’t focus.
Because my head was gone.
Shot to shite.
Lost inside the girl whose bedroom I was sitting in.
I was sliding my phone back into the pocket of my school trousers when Shannon returned with her bag.
"I think business wouldn’t be so hard if I could get a handle of the maths side of it," she said in a slightly breathless tone as she hauled her bag over to the bed.