by Chloe Walsh
"Good," he agreed. "About time."
My mouth fell open. "But you said I shouldn't –"
"Hey –" Gibsie held his hands up and grinned. "I'm the last person you should be taking advice from." Shrugging, he added, "I'm following your lead, lad."
"Jesus, we're fucked," I muttered.
"That we are, buddy. That we are," he replied, slapping my back. "But seriously, you really should know better than to take my advice to heart since I've clearly dug myself into a hole I can't get the fuck back out of."
"What's going on there, lad?" I asked, frowning. "Does Dee have something on you?"
"Nah." He shook his head. "Nothing I can't handle."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely."
A trickle of unease ran down my spine. "Gibs, if you're in trouble, you can talk to me."
"Appreciate the concern, but you're the one whose girlfriend is on the other side of the street, Johnny," he chuckled. "And besides, I have a plan."
I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of plan?"
"On how to keep my dick in my pants," he told me.
"What – and out of the school secretary?"
"Yep." He nodded. "I'm injured now. Out of action for the next six to eight weeks." He gave me two enthusiastic thumbs up. "She can't touch me anymore."
"You're injured? Where? How? What the…" I shook my head and gaped at him. "You're going to have to elaborate a little more for me here, lad, because if you're using a picture of my cock and pretending it's yours –" He dropped his pants and I sucked in a sharp breath. "Holy shite!" Gaping in horror, my hand automatically moved to cup my own dick. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I was thinking I need a way to keep my dick out of the school secretary," he shot back, holding his dick in his hand.
"When did you do this to yourself?" I demanded, outraged.
"During the Easter holidays," he replied. "I told you I was bored."
I balked. "So you went out and got your dick pierced?"
He shrugged. "It's actually kind of genius if you think about it."
"Gibs, you voluntarily allowed someone to stick a needle through your penis," I deadpanned, gaping at the piercing on the underside of his shaft. "That's not genius, lad, that's lunacy."
"It's not so bad," he said in an upbeat tone, stroking the crown of his dick. "It's almost healed, and it's looks a lot better when I'm hard –"
"Don't you dare pull on your dick in front of me!" I warned him. "What the hell is wrong with you? I don't want to see you hard!"
"You wanted to know my plan," he huffed, tucking himself back into his jocks. "So, I showed you my frenum piercing."
Shaking my head, I hissed, "Frenum?"
"Yeah." He nodded eagerly. "Like a Jacob's ladder without the ladder."
"What…how…" I gaped at him. "Are you planning on adding to it?"
"No," he replied. "Not for a while, at least."
"You're fucking insane," I choked out. "Deranged, even. And you've scarred me for life."
"I've scarred you for life? Yeah. Sure," he scoffed. "I showed you a piece of body art, lad. You showed me your gangrened ball sac."
"For the last time, I didn't have fucking gangrene," I snapped. "I had a torn adductor."
"Whatever you say, lad." Laughing, Gibsie sauntered out of his room with me trailing after him, still visually traumatized. "But those were the most discolored balls I've ever seen in my life."
"I hate you," I grumbled, hobbling down the staircase after him. "I hope you know that."
"And I love you, too," he snickered.
"Is it sore?" I asked, still grimacing at the thought.
"Nah. It's just heavier. It's taking a bit of getting used to."
"Ah, shite…"
"Boys, have a bit of respect," Gibsie's mother ordered when we thundered into the sitting room to say goodbye to her. "The Angelus is on."
Grimacing, Gibsie and I both blessed ourselves and mumbled off the prayers imbedded inside of us since birth as the familiar church bell rang loudly on the television. Sadhbh Allen was a religious woman, and for one solid minute, there would be no talking in the Gibson household while we waited, head-bowed, for the signal of the 6:01 news to come on.
"Now," Mrs. Allen said, muting the television when the news came on. Walking towards us with her giant, white Persian cat in her arms, she smiled brightly. "How was school?"
"Fine," we both replied in unison.
"Johnny." She flashed me a warm smile. "How are you feeling since Dublin, pet?"
"I'm grand, thanks," I replied, offering a smile. I stepped forward to give Brian a rub while Gibsie lunged away from the cat. "I'm getting back on track."
"Your poor mother must have been beside herself with worry."
"Yeah." Grimacing, I gently scratched Brian under the chin. "You could say that."
"Where's Fa?" Gibsie asked, using the pet name for his stepfather, Keith Allen. He'd been in Gibsie's life since the age of eight. It was short for father – a term of endearment and sign of respect to the man who had helped raise him. A man who wasn't quite his father, but much more than just Keith. Fa was the middle line and Gibsie had called Keith that for as long as I'd known him. "I thought he'd be back by now?"
"He's still on the building site, pet. There was a delay with a delivery, but he'll be home tonight." Mrs. Allen stepped closer to Gibsie and he comically dived backwards.
"Keep that beast away from me," he strangled out, eyeing Brian warily. "I don't trust him, Mam."
"Ah, he's harmless," Mrs. Allen laughed. "You wouldn't hurt a fly, would you, Brian?"
"No, the flies are grand because his issue is with me," Gibsie grumbled. "Isn't it, Brian?" The cat hissed and Gibsie leapt behind me. "You're going to have to do something about his behavior," he warned his mother. "I don't feel safe in my home anymore."
"Anyways, I better get going," I announced, clearing my throat. I was fond of Gibsie's mother and always enjoyed watching Gibsie's cat tear strips out of him, but knowing Shannon was directly across the street was making me anxious. "Thanks for having me, Mrs. Allen."
"Anytime, Johnny," his mother replied, waving me off. "Don't be a stranger."
"I'm going with him, Mam," Gibsie told her as he hurried after me, narrowly avoiding a swipe of the paw from their cat. "I'll be home later."
"Of course, you are," she called after us. "Behave yourself, Bubba."
"Keep your head," Gibsie instructed when we stepped outside and he closed the door behind him. "Just talk to her – don't go in all guns blazing like you did earlier."
"I will keep my head," I grumbled.
"I mean it," he shot back. "No talking shit about her brother."
"I don't do that," I snapped, flustered. "But I swear to god, lad, if I have to look at her with one more bruise, I'm the one who's going to be in Cork prison, not her Da. He'll be in a fucking graveyard with his son beside him if either of them puts their hands on her again."
32
Ladder In My Tights
Shannon
"There's movement on the western front," Claire announced from her perch on the window sill in her bedroom. "The front door's opening – slowly. Nope, it's closing again. Oh wait, it's opening again. Make a decision, dammit! Oh wait, I can see one teenage male – no, make that two. They're both together – no surprises there. B2 is locking the front door. He's saying something to B1 – and they're both pushing each other. Looks like they're arguing… oh, oh, they're walking towards his car now…no, no, they've changed course. They're crossing the road. Getting closer, closer, closer –"
"Claire!" I choked out, panicking.
"Shh –" she held a hand up and pointed to her bedroom door. "Just wait for it."
Ding-dong.
She grinned. "Looks like they've come to play with the teddies."
"Bananas in Pajamas references?" I laughed, unable to stop myself. "Really?"
"Hey –" She shrugged, grinning. "If the shoe fits."
"What do I do?" I asked, worrying my lip. Everything had gone to hell in the carpark at school, and Johnny hadn't spoken a single word to me the entire drive to Claire's house. When Gibsie pulled into his driveway, I had walked across the road with Claire to her house and Johnny had stayed with Gibsie. I didn't know what to do or make of it. I had no experience in dealing with this sort of thing. "Do you think he's mad?"
"No," Claire replied, rolling her eyes. "I think he thinks you're mad." She tilted her head to one-side, studying me carefully. "Are you mad?"
I shrugged. "I don't know what I am."
"It's okay if you are. We all sort of railroaded you with Darren earlier." Scrunching her nose up, Claire flicked at a piece of fluff on her pajama shorts before adding, "But he put his hands on you, and that's kind of a red flag deal to us."
"Darren wouldn't hurt me," I heard myself say for the millionth time in the space of a few hours. "Not like that. He's just… he's worried about Mam and the kids…and my dad." Because he's still out there.
"Yeah, I know." Letting her feet fall from the windowsill to the floor, Claire stood up and stretched her arms over her head. Her pale curls, held back from her face with a clip, flowed down her back like vibrant, golden sunshine. She was just so beautiful with her long legs and toned curves, that it made me feel like a little boy alongside her. "I know he wouldn't 'hurt you' hurt you, and I'm so sorry for making a scene," she added, tone guilty. "But you have to see where we were coming from. You kept everything inside for so long, buried so many secrets about what was going on at home, that it's hard to trust you."
I flinched from her words and Claire's eyes widened. "I don't mean it in a bad way," she hurried to soothe. "I trust you one million percent with all my secrets and everything, I swear. I'm just saying that when it comes to your family, we're all a little wary."
"I get it." Shifting on her bed so that I was sitting cross-legged and facing her, I let out a defeated sigh. "It's just a mess."
"With Darren?" she asked, eyes warm and laced with sympathy. "Or in general?"
"All of the above," I admitted. "I don't think Darren's coping with being back home." Guilt churned inside of me. "You saw just how well Joey's 'coping' with life, Tadhg has morphed into a walking hormone, Sean can barely string a word together – and he's wetting the bed every night. Mam is being…well, she's just the definition of a mess, and Dad is…" Cringing, I added, "The only one that seems to be coping is Ollie, and he's nine."
"Sorry, Shan." She gave me a sympathetic look. "That sucks."
"Yeah," I sighed. "And I know I should make an effort with Darren, but it's so hard. He just…he was gone, you know? For years. I didn't even know where he was, and now, all of a sudden, he's back, and in charge, and falling into line with her –" My voice broke off and I gnawed anxiously on my fingernails. "I don't know how to process it all. So much has happened and I feel like…"
"You feel like what, Shan?"
"Like I'm being smothered," I offered quietly.
"By me?" she asked.
"No." I shook my head. "Never you."
"I'm always here for you." Hurrying over to where I was sitting on her bed, Claire flung herself down on me, knocking me onto my back. "You're my best friend," she whispered, hugging me tightly. "And I know I'm not supposed to squeeze you, but I can't help it because –" Her voice cracked and she dropped her face to rest against my shoulder before whispering, "Because when I got that call from Gerard and found out what happened to you, I was so afraid that I would never see you again." Sniffling, she clutched me tighter. "I felt so responsible."
"I'm still here," I croaked out, holding her tightly, drowning in the smell of her strawberry shampoo as her hair splayed over my face. "And you were never responsible."
"Wasn't I?" she muttered. "I knew something was happening to you and I did nothing about it."
"You were exactly the kind of friend I needed," I told her. "I wouldn't have gotten through any of it without you, so don't ever feel bad for being what I needed."
"I'm always going to feel bad, Shan," she replied. "I don't think that's going to go away in a hurry."
"God, you need a haircut," I spluttered, spitting out a mouthful of blond curls.
"Huh?"
"Your hair, Claire," I strangled out, batting at my mouth as a mountain of curls swamped me. "It's in my mouth." I pushed at her shoulders. "You're turning into Rapunzel."
"Says the girl with hair down to her arse," she giggled, climbing off me. "My hair's thick and there's a lot of it –" She paused to pull me up, "But you're the one with the length."
"Because it's the only thing about me that grows," I joked, settling down to sit cross-legged, facing her. Reaching behind my head, I pulled out my hair tie and tossed my brown hair over my left shoulder. "It's all I have," I added as I began to braid my hair into submission. "So don't judge –"
"I have something that grows," a familiar male voice piped up. "It's growing right now."
"You're supposed to knock, remember?" Claire said, glancing over her shoulder at Gibsie who was standing in her bedroom. "You know the rules."
Hovering in the doorway behind him was Johnny, shifting from foot to foot, looking incredibly uncomfortable.
His gaze locked on mine and he offered me a small smile.
I smiled back.
Relief flooded his features and he blew out a breath.
"I know you're talking right now, babe," Gibsie said, drawing my attention back to him. "And I'm trying really hard to pay attention, but it's kind of impossible when all I'm seeing is you and another girl on your bed, braiding hair, with your sexy ass hanging out of those shorts." Grinning, he added, "Quick, do something else."
"Something like this," Claire replied sweetly, before grabbing a pillow and flinging it at him.
"Fucking perfect," Gibsie choked out, catching the pillow mid-air. "Add in pillow fights and it's like free porn."
"You're a perv."
"A perv who sorted that hockey thing for you."
"You did?" Claire's eyes widened. "How?"
Gibsie shrugged. "I have my ways." Titling his head to one-side, he studied her back and asked, "Holy shit – are you wearing a thong?"
"Gerard," Claire sighed.
"Is it red?" He squinted his eyes and then groaned. "It's fucking red, isn't it?"
Rolling her eyes, Claire climbed off the bed and padded over to where he was standing. "You're an idiot," she chided, slapping his arm. "Come on, you can help me clean the kitchen before Mam gets home from work. It'll give these two some time to talk." Smiling brightly at Johnny, she added, "Come on in, Johnny."
"Uh, yeah." Shoving his hands into his pockets, Johnny stepped into her room. "Thanks."
"I'll come anywhere you want if you just show me that thong," Gibsie pleaded, dropping his hands to her waist. "I'll clean all the pots. I'll do anything. Just one peek. That's all I'm asking."
"You'll come anyway," she huffed, catching ahold of his school tie and dragging him out of her room.
"You've got that right," he agreed, trailing after her like a puppy dog on a lead. "Is your bra red, too?"
"I'm not wearing one."
"Oh, Jesus."
Gibsie pulled the door closed, leaving me and Johnny alone in Claire's bubblegum pink bedroom.
"There's ah…that's a lot of pink." Shifting awkwardly, he dragged one hand out of his pocket and waved his hand around aimlessly. "Never seen so many teddy bears and dolls in my life."
"She doesn't play with them anymore," I explained, stifling a laugh at the sight of his confused expression. "She just collects them." Feeling at a loss, I grabbed the huge, white polar bear from the top of her bed and held it out to him. "Gibsie bought this one for her thirteenth birthday and demanded she name it after him," I said. "She compromised and called it Gerry."
"I remember," Johnny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Bleeding thing cost him eighty quid. He was cutting grass for the entire summer to pay for it."
Johnny shrugged. "That's the one she wanted."
"Oh," I whispered, not knowing what else to say.
"Are we okay?" he asked then, remaining exactly where he was. "You and me?"
I nodded. "I think so."
Johnny blew out a harsh breath and moved towards me. "I know I fucked up, okay?" he blurted, not stopping until he was sitting on the edge of Claire's bed, eyes locked on mine. "I overreacted. But I just saw him with his hands on you and I panicked." He shook his head and reached for my hand. "I fucking saw red, Shan. I couldn't think clearly and jumped to conclusions."
"I get it," I whispered, shifting closer to him. "I'm not mad at you."
"But I've just made things worse for you." He groaned, pulling my hand onto his lap, and looked at me, expression forlorn. "I fucked it, baby."
Baby?
Oh god.
"And now you're going to have to go home and deal with more of their shite," he continued to say, sounding pained. "All because I couldn't get a handle of myself –"
"Johnny?" I squeezed out, heart skittering around wildly.
He exhaled a sigh and looked at me with a wary expression like he was trying to gauge my emotions. "Yeah, Shan?"
"I love you." I had no idea why I felt the need to tell him that, but the words seemed to clamber up my throat every time I laid eyes on him.
The blue in his eyes blazed with heat. "I love you, too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I don’t know who moved first after that… there was a blur of flailing limbs, but when I lunged for Johnny, he was already halfway down on me. Our lips crashed together at the same time I collapsed onto my back, with his big body landing heavily on top of me.
Frazzled, I tightened my hold on his neck and let my legs fall apart, causing him to settle between them roughly.
The contact caused us both to moan loudly.
Knotting my fingers in his hair, I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him back with a need that bordered on insanity. Squeezing my thighs, I rocked my hips upward and pulled down hard on his hair, wanting nothing more than to immerse myself in this boy. Plunging my tongue into his mouth, I kissed him hard, unable to get close enough. Johnny rewarded the move with a deep, rumbling growl of approval. The sound was so sexy.