Keeping 13: Boys of Tommen #2

by Chloe Walsh

  "You don't even have a boyfriend," Lizzie laughed.

  "So?" Claire shot back, grinning. "I have an excellent imagination and an insatiable thirst for knowledge."

  "Fine, fine." Hauling herself into a sitting position, Lizzie shook her head and smirked. "Do you remember that Shakira music video – the one Claire tormented us into learning the moves of back in sixth class?"

  "Vividly," I replied, cringing at the memory.

  "That was the best song," Claire replied, eyes bright and full of that relentless optimism.

  "Well, when you're on top, it's kind of like that." Her cheeks turned pink. "You just sort of grind and rock your hips and rotate."

  "Whoa," Claire breathed. "I don't know if I'd like that." Scrunching her nose up, she said, "I think I'd like to be on the bottom."

  "You'd be surprised what you find you like," was all Lizzie replied.

  I sighed heavily. "Johnny said he doesn't want to have sex with me."

  "What?" Both girls gaped at me.

  "He said he doesn't want to have sex with me," I repeated, mortified.

  "Who doesn't want to have sex with you?" Claire's older brother Hughie stopped in the hallway and arched a brow. His eyes widened then. "Holy shit! You're talking about Cap?"

  "No," I blurted out, horrified. "I mean, I don't…I didn't –"

  "Dammit, Claire," Lizzie snapped. "I told you to close your door when you came up with the hot chocolates."

  "I didn't expect perverts to be lurking around," Claire growled, narrowing her eyes at her brother. "Go away, creep."

  "You're all too young for that kind of talk," Hughie stated, casting a meaningful look towards his sister. "Especially you."

  "Oh my god, we're sixteen!" Claire laughed. "And that's rich coming from the boy whose headboard is positioned directly against my bedroom wall." Walking over to her dresser, Claire began to bang her palm down on the dresser in a hard rhythm. "Oh, yeah, baby, give it to me," she mimicked in a male voice. "Oh, Katie, I love what you do with your tongue –"

  "Claire," Hughie hissed in warning. "Pack it in."

  Unperturbed, Claire continued to mimic his voice, speeding up the banging. "Yes, baby. Now, now, I gotta pull out or I'm gonna cooooo–"

  Hughie slammed the bedroom door shut just as Claire screamed, "Come!" and all three of us erupted in laughter.

  "Fuck off," Hughie roared as the sound of his bedroom door slamming filled our ears.

  "What is it with brothers thinking they know everything?" Claire snickered, flopping down on the bed. "Eejits."

  I nodded. "You can say that again."

  "I think you should text him," Lizzie chuckled. "Johnny," she added when we both looked at her in confusion. "Text him with that disgustingly pink phone he bought you," she encouraged. "And see if he wants to…hang out?"

  "Oh yeah, that's good." Claire waggled her brows. "Hang out."

  Excitement thrummed inside of me. "I don't know." Pulling my phone out of my jeans pocket, I glanced at the screen and then back at my friends. "I'm not even supposed to be over here, guys."

  "You've had a shitty week," Lizzie shot back. "One filled with way more drama than any of us could handle. I think you should text your boyfriend and spend Saturday night hanging out together."

  "She's making all the sense today, Shan," Claire agreed with a grin. "You're already out, which means you're already in trouble." Shrugging, she added. "Might as well make it worth it."

  "What if he's busy?" I whispered, biting down on my lip.

  "He's not," Claire chimed in. "He's at the gym with Gerard."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because that's where they were when he called me earlier," Claire replied. "And that's where they'll be until the place closes."

  I gaped. "All day?"

  Claire rolled her eyes. "He's your boyfriend, Shan. You should know that he spends every hour of his waking day working out." She flexed her bicep and kissed it before adding, "Chasing those gains."

  "You're so dumb," Lizzie chuckled.

  "It's true," Claire laughed.

  "Text him," they both said in unison.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I opened my messages and began to tap out a text message.

  "Ask him what he's doing tonight," Lizzie said.

  "Oooh, see if he wants to go on a date?" Claire added. "Oh, oh, you can get dressed here."

  "I've sent it," I breathed, dropping my phone down on the bed.

  Snatching up my phone, Lizzie read through my messages before narrowing her eyes at me. "Hi Johnny," she deadpanned. "That's what you sent?"

  I shrugged and clasped my hands together. "That's okay, right?"

  "If you're four," Lizzie grumbled. "No kiss at the end?"

  I shrugged, feeling at a loss. "Is that bad?"

  "Not if you're texting your brother," Claire offered with a sympathetic smile.

  "Oh my god, switch it off," I groaned, feeling sick. "Turn the phone off."

  Ping.

  "Ah, he texted you back," Claire squealed, snatching the phone out of Lizzie's hand and climbing off the bed.

  "Hi baby," she began to read, only to stop and clutch her chest. "Oh sweet Jesus, he called her baby!" Flopping back down on the bed, she added, "And he gave her two kisses at the end." She sighed in contentment. "I think I just had an orgasm."

  "Give me that," Lizzie grumbled, swiping the phone back from Claire. "Hi baby, how are you doing? Can I call you later tonight? Kiss, kiss."

  My heart galloped wildly. "Tell him that he can call me," I said as I watched Lizzie type back a message. "Did you tell him he can?" I asked when she set down the phone on her thigh. "Liz?"

  Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but the phone pinged again before she could respond. Glancing down at the screen, she grinned deviously.

  "Oh my god." A shiver of unease rolled through me. "What did you do?"

  "I told him that instead of calling you tonight, he could pick you up from here." She winked before adding, "He'll be here at eight, so you better get ready."

  "Wait!" Pressing my fingers to my temples, I forced myself to breathe slowly and not panic. "Just…give me a minute." I inhaled several deep, calming breaths before asking, "Is this a date?"

  Claire nodded her head vigorously. Meanwhile, Lizzie looked at me like I was a brand-new species of human. "I don't understand you, Shan," she sighed. "He's your boyfriend. You spend half of lunch every day with his tongue down your throat. You're meeting up with him on a Saturday night. Of course, it's a date."

  "Should I…get him something?" I asked, feeling my heart rate spike.

  "No," Lizzie shot back, appalled. "Why would you?"

  "I don't know!" I flailed anxiously. "I'm just panicking, okay? What if he takes me somewhere? I don't have any money."

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It does," I choked out. "It matters to me."

  "You could make him a mixtape?" Claire offered then. "Or a mix-CD for his car – if you wanted to give him something."

  "That's a good idea," Lizzie mused. "What are you going to put on it?"

  "I don’t know." Leaning back against the pillows, I sighed. "Maybe it's a bad idea?"

  "No." Walking over to her desk, Claire grabbed her laptop. It's a great idea," she assured me, inserting a disc into the slot on the side of her laptop. "Now do it."

  "Do boys even like that sort of thing?" I asked, fingers hovering over the keys. "Aoife's always making mix CDs for Joey and he never listens to them."

  "Well, Gerard makes them for me and I love them," Claire replied. "Give him your thoughts, Shan. Find your feelings in songs and reveal them to him."

  "Is that what you do?" Lizzie asked flatly.

  "All the time," Claire groaned. "And I know he listens to them." Sighing, she added, "He just chooses not to hear them."

  "Oh, dear god," Lizzie muttered. "That boy's a donkey."

  "But Johnny's not like that. He'll listen, Shan. He always hears you. Oh here, take this –" Tossing a p
ermanent black marker at me, Claire smiled. "Write something down on the disc once you're done, so he doesn’t mistake it for one of Gerard's creations."

  "You are so tiny, it's sickening," Lizzie groaned an hour later. "If I didn't eat a bite of food for the next year and a half, I still wouldn't be your size."

  That would be the hunger, I begrudgingly thought. Be glad you've never felt those kinds of pains. "Do I look bad?" I croaked out, feeling nervous, as I glanced down at my outfit. "Am I okay?"

  "No." She sighed and steered me towards the full-length mirror in the Biggs's family bathroom. "You look amazing and perfect and I'm disgustingly jealous of you right now."

  "Ta-da," Claire squeaked, waving around a foundation brush in her hand. "You look like a…like a…sexy bitch!"

  Eyes locked on the mirror in front of me, I took in my appearance and blew out a shaky breath. "Whoa."

  "I know," Claire agreed knowingly. "Hot stuff."

  "I'm going to freeze," I whispered, taking in the sight of the halter-neck red dress Claire had practically wrestled me into. She told me it was a dress, but I knew she was lying because I specifically remembered admiring the same red halter-neck last month – when she wore it with jeans. To be fair, it was a dress on me, reaching mid-thigh. On the upside, it was snug and not hanging off my body like most things I wore.

  "The jacket will keep you warm," Lizzie corrected, flicking the black, leather jacket I was wearing.

  "And the skirt is for easier access," Claire snickered. "Just joking. Hey – what size shoe are you?"

  "I'm a three," I replied, watching myself warily in the mirror. My lips were blood red to match my dress and my eyes were smoky. My hair was tousled up in a purposefully-messy high pony-tail that still reached my elbow in length.

  "God, how unfair is that?" Lizzie grumbled. "I would kill to have small feet."

  "Mam's a four. Hmm. Gimme a sec," Claire mumbled before darting out of the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later with a pair of black heels. "Perfect."

  I eyed the six-inch heels with caution. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

  "It's a great idea," she coaxed and then dropped to her knees and shoved the shoes on my feet before I had a chance to object. "Good god, you're like a Bratz Doll with those big, popping eyes and all that hair," she said excitedly, standing up to take in my appearance. "You're so cute it hurts."

  "Well, she's not a doll, Claire," Lizzie reminded her. "She's a person and she looks – stop it!" Slapping the hairbrush Claire was inching towards me away, Lizzie smiled. "You look gorgeous, Shan."

  "Are you sure I shouldn't wear a bra?" I asked, feeling self-conscious.

  "No," Claire huffed. "You should absolutely not wear a bra! It will ruin the whole outfit."

  "Shan, if I could get away with not wearing a bra, then I would be roaming free 24/7," Lizzie said, squeezing my shoulder.

  "Me, too," Claire offered supportively. "Flaunt those itty-bitty-titties, girl."

  "Don’t you think that's a bit short?" Hughie quizzed, cocking a brow as he leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. Frowning, he added, "I feel like I need to take off my jumper and put it on you."

  "Shut up, Hugh!" Claire growled. "Leave her alone."

  "Fair enough." Holding his hands up in defeat, he said, "Now clear out of the bathroom, will ye? I need to get ready. I'm picking up Katie in half an hour."

  "Katie…" Claire mocked, fluttering her eyelashes. "Make sure you wash your willy for Katie."

  "There is something very wrong with you," Hughie replied, scowling at his sister. "Mam and Dad brought the wrong baby home from the hospital." Turning to me, he added, "By the way, Johnny's parked outside."

  My eyes widened. "H-he is?"

  "Yay – let's go!" Clapping, Claire butted Hughie out of the way with her hip. "I'm so excited."

  "Calm down," Lizzie grumbled. "You're not going."

  "I'm a vicarious spirit," Claire replied. "I live for this stuff."

  39

  Date Night

  Johnny

  After scrubbing myself half raw in what had to be the fastest shower known to mankind, I tore my wardrobe apart trying to find something other than a jersey and hoodie to wear. Jesus Christ, my heart hadn't stopped racing since I received that text from Shannon earlier this evening.

  S: You can pick me up instead. I'm at Claire's house. I'll be waiting for you. Xx

  I had no fucking idea what was happening here, and I cared even less, because the concept of spending time with my girlfriend outside of school had my head in a spin. All week, I had to make do with seeing her in the halls and a few scanty minutes at lunch, but now? Now I got to have her to myself for a night. Thanking Jesus that today was the day my mother had decided to relinquish the keys of my car back to me, I whizzed around my bedroom with a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth and paste dripping down my chin, trying to find something respectable to wear.

  Was this a date?

  Did she want me to take her out?

  Should I?

  What the fuck was I going to do?

  What about a condom?

  Should I?

  No!

  Stop it!

  Don't even tempt yourself.

  Fuck…

  "You look very handsome," Mam announced when I walked into the kitchen five minutes later to grab my keys and wallet.

  "Indeed." Gibsie, who was perched on a stool at the island, snickered loudly. "Very handsome, Jonathon."

  I shot him a look that said don’t you fucking dare open your mouth, regretting not dropping him straight home after the gym. I should have, but I'd been so thrown off kilter that I took the big eejit home with me. I also told him about my plans, which was a rookie mistake, one I only made because, again, I had been thrown by that text. To be fair, I felt like I owed him an explanation for almost decapitating him at the gym earlier when I stopped spotting him to text Shannon back.

  Gibsie smirked and gestured that his lips were sealed.

  That would be a first.

  "I look the same as always, Ma," I grumbled, knowing I needed to get in and out of this room before the woman gave me the mothering version of the Spanish Inquisition. "I'll be home late tonight," I added in as breezy a tone as I could muster, slipping my wallet and keys into my back pocket. "So, don’t be panicking, okay?" Or blowing up my bleeding phone.

  "Is that a new shirt?" Mam, ignoring my statement, asked as her gaze traveled over my body.

  Ugh.

  Too fucking late…

  "No." Self-conscious, I pulled at the black fabric currently welded to my chest and shrugged. "It was in my wardrobe."

  Mam smirked. "And new aftershave?"

  "It's the bottle I got at Christmas." I shifted uncomfortably. "Why?"

  "Oh, no reason, love," she replied with a knowing smirk. "Did you get your hair cut today?"

  "Yes," I bit out impatiently, feeling on full display. "I stopped off at the barbers after the gym and got a haircut."

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Did you gel it, too?"

  "Jesus Christ, Ma," I muttered, patting my hair. "So what if I did?"

  "You've made such an effort with your appearance," she mused, arching a brow. "You must be going somewhere special tonight."

  "With someone very special," Gibsie, the fucking turncoat, threw petrol on the fire by adding.

  "You got a haircut, too," I reminded him.

  "True, but I'm not the one with a date."

  I glared at Gibsie.

  He raised his hands and grinned sheepishly.

  "Oh, love, take off your pants," Mam said then, dragging my attention back to her. "There's a crease down the front of your jeans." Hopping down from her stool, she moved for the ironing board. "Whip them off and I'll run the iron over them."

  "What?" I gaped at her. "It's grand, Ma. I have to go."

  "Jeans off," she ordered sharply, plugging in the iron. "No child of mine is going outside the front door in creased clothes."

&nbs
p; "Jesus Christ." Muttering out a string of curse words, I kicked off my boots and dropped my jeans. "I need to go," I muttered, as I stepped out of my jeans and handed them to her. "Like, right now, Ma."

  "You look good," Gibsie stated, tone serious, as he eyed the scar trailing down my thigh. The other one was thankfully concealed by my jocks. "It's really clearing up."

  "Thanks?" I replied, giving him a WTF look as I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for my jeans. "Can you hurry it up, Ma?" I begged. "I need to go."

  "Are you taking Shannon to the pictures, love?" Mam asked, smiling knowingly.

  "It's called the cinema, Ma," I growled, rubbing a hand over my jaw. "No one – and I mean no bleeding one – calls it the pictures anymore."

  "I do," Mam chirped back happily. "So, is that where you're taking her?"

  "I don't know yet," I muttered. "I was going to let her decide."

  "Ah, that's lovely, that is." Turning to Gibs, Mam smiled. "Isn't that lovely, Gerard?"

  "It sure is." Gibsie snickered.

  "You should be taking that young one to the pictures," Mam added. "What's her name – the Biggs girl."

  Gibsie reddened and I smirked.

  Ha fucking ha.

  "Claire," he said, clearing his throat.

  "Ah, yes, Hughie's sister." Mam smiled to herself as she ran the iron over my jeans. "You've been chasing after that girl since the day Johnny brought you home here, looking like a little blond, chubby cherub."

  I snorted, and it was Gibsie's turn to glare at me.

  "You were such a gorgeous little boy." Setting the iron down, Mam picked up my jeans and shook them out, inspecting her work, before thankfully handing them back to me. "Do you remember the summer back in primary school when you all camped out in the acre? You fell into that bush of nettles trying to lift her over the electric fencer because she was afraid of the neighbor's bull?" Mam laughed softly to herself. "You were all stung and nettled but you still managed to get her out of that field."

  "Oh yeah," Gibsie chuckled, scratching his chin. "I forgot about that."

  "I said it to Sadhbh and Sinead back then that they would have to keep an eye on the pair of you," Mam mused. " You were supposed to be Hughie's friend, but you and that young-one were always inseparable. Joined at the hip with that little girl, you were."