by Chloe Walsh
"I'm not doing anything," I grumbled as I leaned back in my chair and rolled my water bottle between my hands absentmindedly.
Shannon was sitting at the opposite side of the lunch hall with her two friends, smiling and laughing at something Hughie's little sister was saying.
Her hair was swept back in two long braids resting on her small shoulders, and every time she wrapped one of those braids around her finger, I had to bite back a groan.
Seriously, I'd been sitting here for the past twenty-five minutes, not listening to one word Gibsie was saying, because I was too fucking busy watching a girl who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.
All weekend, Shannon had been in the back of my mind – okay, the fore point.
I'd spent days brooding over her reaction to me on the pitch Friday, and how she hurried away from me.
When she passed me in the hall this morning after first class, I had felt way too fucking excited to see her.
Of course, she smiled shyly before dropping her head and hurrying past me, but she was here.
She was in my space.
Which meant both my attention and my thoughts were fixated solely on her.
And I fucking hated it.
I wanted her, I realized, and it was entirely inappropriate and horrendous bad luck on my account, but I did.
I wanted Shannon Lynch.
And worse than wanting her, I really fucking liked her.
She had this sweet something about her, and I liked how it felt when I was around her.
I liked the way she looked, the way she spoke, the way she carried herself.
I liked a whole heap of things about her, and oddly enough, my liking her had nothing to do with what was under her clothes.
Well, that wasn’t completely true.
I thought a lot about what I would find beneath her clothes and I liked those visuals a lot.
But it was more than that.
It was all more when it came to her.
But I wasn’t in the position to put time into a girl, and spending time with that particular one could get me in a world of trouble.
I knew the way things worked; spend too much time with a girl and feelings arose, and where feelings arose, fucking arose.
It was a dangerous ledge to balance on.
One I was not willing to step onto.
"No, you're not doing anything," Gibsie drawled sarcastically, shifting in his seat so he was blocking my perfect view of her. "You're only mentally undressing her in your head."
"I am not," I growled, glaring at him from across the table.
I was.
I so fucking was.
Christ, was I that obvious?
"Yes, you are that obvious," Gibsie stated, clearly reading my thoughts. "And I'll tell you who else is obvious," he added, gesturing with his thumb to our right. "That evil bitch."
I didn’t need to look to know he was talking about Bella.
She was perched at the opposite end of our table with a few of the lads on the team from sixth year, where she had spent most of lunch trying to get a rise out of me.
It wouldn’t work.
I wasn’t fucking biting.
"Ignore her." Unscrewing the cork on my bottle, I took a deep swig of water. "She's not worth the hassle."
"Lad, I know I'm repeating myself, but I honest to god don’t know how you ever touched her," he groaned.
"Neither do I," I admitted, as I recapped my bottle and resumed my staring at Shannon.
He leaned back in his chair and arched a brow. "You should go over and talk to her."
"To Bella?" I scowled. "No fucking thanks."
"Not that demon," Gibsie countered with a grimace. "Shannon."
I shook my head. "No."
"She's a frigit, you know," Gibsie stated nonchalantly. "Or at least she was." He gave me a pointed look. "You haven't been sticking your tongue down her throat, have you?"
"No," I hissed.
"Okay then," he mused. "She's still a frigit."
I frowned at him. "How do you even know that?"
"I listen carefully," he snickered, tapping his temple.
"What?"
"I overheard the girls talking about it in Claire's bedroom a while back," he admitted. "That viper Pierce is tapping was talking about what a terrible ride he is, and it came up that Shannon has never kissed a fella." Frowning, he added, "The viper really doesn’t like me."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, "You're listening outside the girl's bedroom now?"
When he didn’t deny it, I shook my head.
"You have a problem, Gibs. A big one."
"It's only a problem if you admit it," he countered with a knowing grin. "Isn't that how it works, Johnny?"
"Fuck off," I growled, knowing exactly what he was getting at.
"Go on, Johnny. Just go over there and talk to her," he encouraged. "You can do it."
"No, Gibs," I bit out. "Let it go."
"Why not?" he demanded in an exasperated tone.
"Because I don’t want to," I snapped.
"Liar."
"You know what? For a fella who calls himself my best friend, you're doing a shitty job," I growled. "I told you I'm not going there with that girl. I told you she's too fucking young for me."
"You're the one who can't stop staring at her," he barked.
"Well, tell me to stop," I shot back. "Don’t tell me to go over there."
"I did tell you to stop," Gibsie hissed, sounding exasperated. "Like two minutes ago. I told you to stop staring at her like a creeper, and yet here you are, still fucking her with your eyes, and still looking like someone shit in your cornflakes." He threw his hands up. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
"You're supposed to remember that I'm the eejit who almost died this morning being dessy driver for your learner arse," I grumbled. "So instead of encouraging me to make bad choices, why don’t you try and support me for once."
"I'm a good driver!"
I rolled my eyes. "You are a liability."
"And I am nothing but supportive to you," he huffed dramatically. "I am your number fucking one supporter, Johnny Kavanagh." Leaning back in his seat, he folded his arms across his chest and gave me a pointed look. "You really hurt my feelings just now."
"I hurt your feelings?" I cocked a brow. "Who's the bitch with a vagina now?"
"Apologize," he ordered.
"Get the fuck out of here, ya eejit," I laughed.
He glared back at me. "Say you're sorry."
"For what?"
"For hurting my feelings," he sniffed. "Now apologize."
"I'm sorry, Gibs," I placated, deciding it was easier to just give the big eejit what he wanted.
"You could mean it," he argued.
"You could learn not to push your luck," I warned.
We had a fifteen second stare down until he grinned and said, "I accept your apology."
"Good," I muttered. "I'm delighted for ya."
"And since you seem to need so much support these days –" Shoving back his chair, Gibsie stood up and winked at me. "I'll go talk to her for you."
"Don’t you fucking dare – " I paused to grab him, but he slipped out of my grip and sauntered away. "Gibs!"
"Relax, Kav, I've got this," he told me as he made a big show of adjusting his school tie. Waggling his brows, he added, "Watch how it's done."
And then he walked right over to the girls' table and sat down.
For fuck's sake...
My feet were moving before my common sense had a chance to talk me off the ledge I was about to step onto.
14
Provisional Licenses
Shannon
I could feel Johnny's eyes on my face from across the lunch hall on Monday.
Like the stalker I was, I knew exactly where he sat for lunch each day: the last seat at the end of the glorified rugby table, on the inside row, next to the archway exit.
All through lunch, I dutifully ignored the burning sensation on my c
heeks, the same burn I could feel all the way down to my toes, and concentrated on Claire and Lizzie.
Because I knew what would happen if I looked back at him.
I would give myself away, and he didn’t need to know how badly he affected me.
He confused me last Friday and he was confusing me again.
Why was he watching me?
Why did he invite me to that party?
Why did he make my heart race so violently?
I didn’t understand what was happening here, and in the storm of my turbulent emotions, I needed to hold onto some semblance of control.
It wasn’t easy, though, and that control was snatched from my teetering grip the moment Gibsie walked right up to our table, all blond hair and big smiles.
"Ladies," he acknowledged in that flirtatious tone I'd become used to him using as he slipped into a seat on the other side of Claire. "How are we doing today?"
"What do you want, Gerard?" Claire groaned, slipping out of his hold when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "We're trying to eat here."
"I have something to show you," he told her, brows waggling.
"I'm not looking at your penis," Claire hissed. "So stop trying to show it to me."
"Not that," Gibsie snorted and then proceeded to pull a set of keys out of his pocket and dangle them in Claire's face. "These."
"Oh my god," Claire gasped, snatching the keys out of his hands. "Your parents gave you the car early? I thought you weren't getting the keys until the weekend?"
"They caved," he told her, grinning. "Which means –"
"A maniac has been let loose on Irish roads?" Lizzie interjected.
"Jesus," Gibsie muttered, frowning across the table at Lizzie. "You're a barrel of laughs."
Lizzie merely gave him the finger and returned to her lunch.
Shaking his head, Gibsie turned his attention back to Claire. "There's more," he announced, giving her his sole attention. "They're gone to Tenerife." He waggled his brows. "Until Monday."
"They've left you to your own devices?" Claire demanded. "You?"
"And you know what that means, don’t you?" He winked back at her. "Sleepover time."
"Your parents left you in charge of their house?" she repeated, looking shocked.
He grinned and swiped her apple out of her hand. "They did."
"For an entire week?" Claire shook her head, mouth hanging open. "Alone? Unsupervised."
His grin widened as he tossed the apple up in the air. "You sound surprised," he added, catching the apple effortlessly.
Intrigued by their interaction, I leaned against the table and watched with interest.
"Because I am," Claire spluttered, staring back at him. "Do they know you at all?"
"Obviously not," he snorted. "Now go home and pack your shit." He waggled his brows before taking a bite from Claire's apple. "Because you're checking into Hotel Gibson for the week," he added mid-chew. "Fun times."
"Oh really?" Claire leaned back in her chair and smirked. "And does Hotel Gibson come with good reviews?"
"It comes with cock, Claire-Bear," Gibsie announced – and not quietly. "An unlimited supply of five-star cock."
"Say it louder," she hissed, slapping his shoulder. "I don’t think everyone heard you."
"It comes with cock, Claire!" he taunted, accepting her challenge without an ounce of shame. "My cock."
"Fuck your cock," Claire growled, looking mortified.
"Of course, you can," he nodded with a grin. "But here's not really the place."
"I don’t know why I'm friends with you," Claire muttered, cheeks burning. "You're so inappropriate."
"You are friends with me because you love me," he purred. "Because I'm the only one that makes your cheeks turn pink–" he paused and stroked her cheek with his finger, "in more ways than one."
"When I was eleven, Gerard," she shot back. "And it was one bloody kiss!"
"I’m ready for a repeat performance," he told her. "Say the word, Claire-Bear, tell me you're ready for us, and I'm all yours –"
"Can you stop doing that!" Lizzie barked then, glaring at Gibsie.
"Doing what?"
"Screwing around with her feelings," she huffed. "It's not a game!"
"Lizzie, it's okay," Claire began to say but Lizzie cut her off.
"It's not okay," she snapped. "He's been doing this since we were four. It's wrong!"
"I'm not screwing around with her feelings," Gibsie replied, looking confused. "She knows I love her."
Claire turned beetroot red, causing Lizzie to growl.
"Yeah, asshole," Lizzie hissed. "You love her loads, don’t you? That's why you're going around shagging half the school, isn’t it?"
"What is your problem?" Gibsie growled, glaring now.
"You," Lizzie snapped. "You and your shithead friends thinking you're cock of the walk. Going around playing girls like it's all a big game. You're all disgusting. Every last one of you rugbyheads."
Gibsie gaped at her, looking affronted. "What did Johnny do out of the way to you?"
"Yeah," a familiar voice asked. "What did I do?"
My heart skyrocketed in my chest at the sound of that achingly familiar Dublin accent.
It stood out from everyone around us, just like he stood out from everyone around us.
"You're as bad as the rest of them," Lizzie hissed, not missing a beat, as she turned her furious glare on Johnny, who much to my detriment, was pulling out the chair next to me. "Worse. You're their leader."
"Well, that's news to me," Johnny countered calmly.
He sat down beside me then and I felt the piece of bread I was chewing on wedge itself to the roof of my mouth.
Swallowing it down, I looked up at him, wide-eyed and confused.
He smiled down at me. "Hi, Shannon."
"Hi, Johnny," I whispered, staring back at him, feeling like my heart was two seconds away from bursting out of my chest.
"How are you?" he asked, voice deep, blue eyes burning holes in mine.
"I'm good," I breathed. "How are you?"
He smirked. "I'm good."
Dammit, there was that word again…
"Did you have a nice weekend?"
"Uh, it was okay." I felt myself blush. "Did you?"
"I spent most of it training." He smirked. "Same as always."
I nodded, not really understanding a damn thing that was happening here. "H-how was the party?"
"I didn’t stay long." Johnny leaned his elbow on the table, turned his body inwards, and gave me his full attention. "I just went to show my face really."
"How come?" I breathed, burning from being so close to him.
"Training commitments," he explained, thrumming his long fingers against the table, blue eyes locked on mine. "I try to avoid parties during the season –"
"Jesus, not you, too," Lizzie growled. "It's bad enough Thor over there is pulling his shit with Claire without you messing with Shannon."
Johnny turned his blue eyes on Lizzie. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she countered.
"Am I not allowed to speak to her?" he questioned, arching a brow. "Do you not like to share your friends?"
"You know what you're doing," Lizzie shot back defiantly.
"You're right, Gibs," Johnny mused with a small shake of his head. Leaning back in his chair, he added, "Pierce is a bleeding saint."
"Total respect," Gibsie shot back, resting his arm around Claire's chair.
"Ugh," Lizzie sneered, giving both Johnny and Gibsie a disgusted look. "I hate you all."
"When you say all, does that apply to just us –" Gibsie gestured from himself to Johnny, "Or all men?"
"You most of all, you big, blond eejit, with your rugby shaped head," Lizzie snapped. Shoving her chair back, she stood up and cast a glare to Johnny. "And you're a close second, Captain Fantastic, for not having better control over that gimp."
Having said that, Lizzie swung around and stalked out of the lunch hall.
<
br /> "Whoa," Gibsie breathed when she was gone. "That girl seriously hates me."
"She hates everyone," Claire replied, patting his arm soothingly. "Don’t take it personal."
"It's true," I decided to offer up. "She only likes, like, two people."
"Exactly," Claire agreed. "It truly is nothing personal. Lizzie's just protective of us."
"Yeah, well, I don’t have a rugby shaped head," Gibsie grumbled. He looked to Johnny. "Do I?"
"No, Gibs," Johnny sighed. "Your head's not shaped like a rugby ball."
"Really?" He touched his head self-consciously. "Because I weighed like twelve pounds when I was born, and my Mam's always bitching to her friends about how I wrecked her with my big head."
"It's a perfectly normal head, Gibs," Johnny coaxed. "Very circular."
"Not too big?"
"You grew into it," he assured him. "Fits you fine now."
Unable to stop myself, I snickered at the sight of Johnny comforting Gibsie.
"You laughing at my misfortune again, Little Shannon?" Gibsie shot back with a wolfish smile. "Go ahead and get it out of your system."
I shrugged helplessly, still grinning.
He was just so unusual and entertaining.
"Now, back to business," Gibsie continued, leaning back in his chair. "What do you want to see tonight?"
Claire frowned. "Tonight?"
"We're going to the cinema," he stated with a devilish grin.
"Who's we?" Johnny bit out, tensing beside me.
Gibsie circled his finger around the four of us.
My mouth fell open. "Huh?"
"She-wolf can come, too," he said to Claire. "If you promise to put a muzzle on her."
"Gibs," Johnny said in a warning tone, shaking his head.
"Come on, lad," Gibsie countered. "You can miss a session for one night – I need a dessy driver until I'm comfortable driving alone." Turning to look at me, he said, "What do you say, Little Shannon?"
I looked to Claire, who was staring back at me with mirrored confusion, and then to Johnny, who looked like he was in some sort of physical pain, before settling on Gibsie.
Say yes, Shannon.
Go with them.
You want to.
