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With a devilish grin etched on his face, Johnny leaned into my ear and whispered, “I reckon I can make those pretty cheeks of yours turn pink.” I turned scarlet. “Wh-what?” “Too easy,” he laughed, thoroughly delighted with himself.
I resorted to sticking my tongue out at him. Johnny’s gaze dropped to my mouth, his eyes dancing with mischief when he said, “Keep poking your tongue out at me and I’m going to catch it.” I popped my tongue back in and gaped at him. “Yeah, right.” “Try it,” he dared, grinning. “Go on.”
AHHHHHHHHH
“Stop looking at me like that,” he ordered, pressing a hand to his side to stop himself from laughing. “Like what? I’m not doing anything!” I retorted, unable to stop the smile spreading across my lips. “You’re the one threatening to snatch my tongue.” “It’s that wide-eyed, nervous look you’ve got going on,” Johnny explained, still laughing to himself. “Don’t worry,” he mused, grinning down at me. “I won’t steal your tongue.”
“Because you can, Shannon,” Johnny’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You can trust me.” His gaze was locked on mine, his strikingly intense blue eyes burning holes inside of me. “I won’t hurt you.”
He’ll let you down, the defensive part of my brain argued. He’ll hurt you worse than all the others. “I won’t,” Johnny stated, seemingly able to read my thoughts. “Whatever you’re used to,” he continued to say, eyes locked on mine. “Or whoever you’re used to. Whatever’s responsible for that sad look in your eyes—” He paused to brush his thumb over my cheekbone. “That’s not me, I’m not like that, and I won’t do that to you.”
Swooningggg
In neat capital letters were the words: SHANNON LIKE THE RIVER. WILL YOU PLEASE BE MY FRIEND? Two hand-drawn boxes were sketched below the writing. One box had a yes over it, and the other had a no. The yes box had a smiley face. The no box had a sad face. At the bottom of the page were the words: SIGNED BY alongside a slightly crooked line with his signature scrawled across it. Beneath the line with Johnny’s name was an empty line for my name and he had dated the note January 10, 2005, my first day at Tommen. A side note stating: PS: SHANNON PROMISES NOT TO SUE JOHNNY WHEN HE’S SIGNED FOR THE
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God, he looked like a different person when he smiled. His entire face transformed. His eyes lit up. The dimples in his cheeks were visible. He was simply beautiful, and I almost told him just that.
I didn’t dare look. Instead, I kept my head down and my gaze trained on my trembling hands. “The fuck you say about her?”
“Sorry.” “Say it again.” “I’m sorry, Johnny—” “To her!” Johnny roared, loud enough that it drew the attention of the entire bus. “Apologize to her. Now.” “Sorry, Shannon,” a chorus of male voices called out.
“I tell you to trust me and then I turn around and act like that?” He hurried to explain, only to stumble over his next hurdle of words. “I shouldn’t… It’s just that…I never normally… I don’t… You’re the only girl I’ve—” He blew out a breath and gestured between us before finally saying, “I’m not good at this, Shannon.”
“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low and gruff, keeping his hand on my arm. I released a trembling breath, forcing my body not to freak out from the contact, and asked, “Do what?” “Block me out.” “Pot meet kettle,” I snapped, turning my face away. “You can’t ignore me,” Johnny pushed, trying for humor. “We have a friendship contract.”
Something inside of this boy called to me. I had no idea what that something was, but it made me brave. It made me want to step out of my comfort zone and help him—even if helping him meant doing the wrong thing.
“I’m in so much pain, Shannon,” he confessed, tone thick and gruff. “All the time,” he added, covering my hand with his. “It hurts so bad I can hardly sleep at night. I can’t concentrate for shit at school. I’m fucking up on the pitch. In training. Everything’s going to hell, and the only person I can talk to about it is a girl I barely know.” Exhaling a heavy breath, he pulled me closer. “You’re the only thing that distracts me, the only thing I can concentrate on, and I don’t even know you. I feel closer to you than my own teammates. I’m telling you things I wouldn’t tell my best friend. How
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“That’s bullshit,” he growled. “You’re not unlikable.” “It’s not bullshit,” I countered. “I am unlikable.” “I like you,” Johnny shot back without an ounce of hesitation. Well, I love you, Johnny Kavanagh!
“How bad did it get?” To the point that I wanted to die. “Bad enough that my mam had to bury herself in debt to transfer me to Tommen,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “And bad enough that I let her do it,” I added, forcing myself to look at him and hating the sympathetic expression I found him wearing.
“Those girls?” he asked then. “At the pub?” I nodded. “Ciara was the worst.” His eyes darkened. “The blond one.” I nodded weakly. “I couldn’t go back to BCS after Christmas. Too much had happened, and it was getting out of hand.”
“And this?” He trailed his fingers over my neck, blue eyes scorching me. “I need to know about this.” I shivered into his touch. “I told you.” “Don’t lie to me,” he coaxed. “Then don’t make me,” I pleaded, knowing that I was giving everything away to him—my heart, my secrets, my trust—and was unable to stop. “Please don’t push me.”
“For now.” I sagged in relief. “Thank you.” “But I’m going to find out,” he whispered. “Whether you tell me or not.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “I’ll find out and I’ll make them suffer.”
“She’s threatened by you,” he said gruffly. “Her reaction to you is based on jealousy.” “Threatened by me?” I shook my head. “Why?” “Because you’re beautiful,” he stated, causing my cheeks to flush a deep shade of pink. A boy had never called me beautiful before. Not like this. Not with such forwardness. Not with such sincerity. Johnny said it, though, and my heart was flapping around in my chest like a demented, caged bird fighting to escape.
He cleared his throat then, looking slightly uncomfortable, and for a moment I thought he was about to take the compliment back, but then he steeled his features, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and whispered, “Inside and out.”
My hearttttt
“Words, Shannon,” he pushed, tone gruff. “I need the words.” “What do you want me to say?” I croaked out. “Tell me why you trust me.” “Because when I’m with you, I feel…” “You feel?” “Safe, okay?” I strangled out. “When you’re around, I feel safe.” “Because you are,” Johnny confirmed in a gruff tone. “I’ve already told you that I’m not going to hurt you, and I hope like fuck that I’ve shown you that, too.”
“You. Are. Safe,” he stated, enunciating every word with aching slowness, as he trailed the pad of his thumb across my chin. “Whatever happened to you in your old school,” he said, pushing through the barriers once more.
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you here.” He pressed his forehead to mine and exhaled a pained sigh.
“And if you just tell me where else I need to keep you safe, I’ll do that, too.” “Why?” It was one word that was loaded with so many unspoken thoughts and notions, but it was all I could come up with. Johnny hesitated for a moment and then said, “Because I care.” “Why?” “I just do.” He shrugged helplessly. “I can’t help it.”
“I told you that day outside Twomey’s office that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” he finally admitted.
Exhaling a small puff of air from my lungs, I pressed into the playlist and quickly scrolled through the list of songs. Coldplay—“Yellow” Guns N’ Roses—“Sweet Child O’ Mine” Goo Goo Dolls—“Iris” The Fureys—“When You Were Sweet Sixteen” Howie Day—“Collide” The Offspring—“Want You Bad” Busted—“Fall at Your Feet” Aerosmith—“Crazy” Counting Crows—“Colorblind” David Gray—“This Year’s Love” Bon Jovi—“In These Arms” Westlife—“World of Our Own” Eagle-Eye Cherry—“Save Tonight” Metallica—“Tuesday’s Gone” Snow Patrol—“Run” The Verve—“Lucky Man” HIM—“Wicked Game” The La’s—“There She Goes” These were love
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“Shannon?” Johnny called after me. Pausing at the door, I swung back to look at him. “Yeah?” His blue eyes burned holes inside of me when he said, “Thanks.” “For what?” I whispered. Johnny smiled. “For being nothing like the rest of them.”
“What’s going on?” Johnny’s voice filled my ears, moments before he came to stand beside me. His arm brushed against mine, and even though there were several layers of clothing between us, my skin still broke out in goose bumps.
He reached up and tucked a rogue strand of hair behind my ear, then whispered, “I’ll see ya later,” and turned around and sprinted off to join his teammates.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning down at me in confusion. “Nothing, I just—” Shaking my head, I reached up and cupped his neck, pulling his face down to mine. Pressing up on my tiptoes, I whispered in his ear, “I need you to stay safe out there, okay?” Resisting the urge to fold myself into him, I released his neck and stepped back. “Be careful.” I took another step back, eyes locked on his. “Okay?”
“You’ll come home with me tonight?” he asked gruffly, eyes burning with heat, as he fiddled with that rogue strand of hair of mine. “You still want to do that?” “Yeah,” I whispered, stepping closer, unable to resist the urge to knot my fingers in his shirt. “I do.” “Shannon, I’m so…” He exhaled a sharp breath and shook his head. “Tonight.”
Without another word, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. And then he turned around and walked away.
If feelings were objects, then I was teetering on the edge of a great precipice, and if girls were weapons, then Shannon Lynch was the greatest weapon of mass destruction my heart had ever been exposed to. Because I was fucked.
It took every ounce of self-control I had inside of my body to walk away from her back there. Especially when everything inside of me demanded I snatch her away from the world and keep her all to myself. “I need you to stay safe out there, okay?” Yeah, at this stage, it was safe to say I was thoroughly fucked when it came to that girl. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t fight my feelings.
If Gibsie hadn’t come over, I would have kissed her. I knew I would have. I already knew what those lips felt like. I wanted so badly to taste them again. I would taste them again. I was starving for her and everything she was. Every part of her. Inside and out. I wanted to fight all her battles. I wanted to give her all her smiles and make her laugh and snatch her away from the rest of the world and keep her all to myself. I just wanted her. For keeps.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH
I needed to talk to her tonight because I needed to lay it out there. I couldn’t go another day without getting it off my chest. Months of wanting, lusting, and pining after her had left me at a point where I couldn’t see straight anymore. Because I had caught feelings for Shannon. Huge fucking feelings. Permanent ones.
But I already felt like I was drowning with her. That’s how consumed I was in this girl. That’s how much I loved her. Fuck.
SCREAMINGGGGGGG
Finally, after several phone calls to the board, an embarrassing and very public bringing out of the rule book, and countless screaming matches between Coach Mulcahy and Royce’s head coach, the teams took to the pitch at half past six—with Johnny sauntering onto the field in his number 13 jersey, wearing a shit-eating smirk on his face.
By halftime, Tommen were up 48–3.
It was a blur of movements that resulted in him grounding the ball seconds before a stampede of opposition players crushed him. The try was awarded. The team began to celebrate. But he wasn’t getting back up.
Everyone from our school was cheering and clapping, the lads on the team were hugging each other in celebration, but Johnny was still slumped facedown behind the try line.
Johnny was still on the ground. Facedown. Unmoving. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted two men in yellow bibs run onto the pitch with a stretcher in tow.
His eyes were open, his chest was moving, and though he looked like he was in a great deal of pain, he was alive. He was shaking his head and pushing away all offers of being lifted onto the stretcher.
“This stops, Johnny!” Gibsie hissed in my ear as he helped me out of the shower and onto the fold-up bed I’d spent the previous hour being poked, prodded, and stitched up on by the emergency doctor on the scene.
“No more training,” he growled, adjusting the waistband on my hips. “No more hiding your pain.” He stalked over to the bench and grabbed a towel. “No more lying.” He wiped a streak of smeared blood off my thigh. “No fucking more!” “I’ll be fine,” I strangled out, shaking from head to toe. “Fine?” Gibsie spat out, pausing midpace to glare at me. “Oh yeah, because you look fucking peachy right now, bleeding your mini fucking Johnnys all over the bed.”
Blood was oozing from the gash in my leg where my stitches had been. “That should have healed weeks ago,” he hissed. “It’s March, Johnny. Fucking March, and you’re walking around with your leg half-open.” “He ripped me with his boot studs,” I choked out. “It could have happened to anyone.”
want to know if he is okay! Him. Johnny! The person. Not the fucking rugby player!” Gibsie tilted his head to one side, studying me with a curious look. “Well, aren’t you a keeper?” he finally mused, tone low.
“Can you stay with me?” My feet stopped and my heart sped up. I turned back to look at him. “Huh?” “Please,” Johnny croaked out. “I don’t want to be on my own.” My heart constricted tightly in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “I can go and get Gibsie?” I offered weakly. Johnny shook his head. “I only want you.”
I was physically attracted to him, emotionally connected, and mentally terrified. It made for an awful battlefield of anguish inside of me. Concern for this boy was rampant inside of me. I didn’t understand it, and in this moment, I didn’t care.
“Those fuckers,” I grumbled, eyeing the purple bruising on the side of his cheek and the cut above his brow that was once again clotting. “Your poor face.” Johnny chuckled then. “What’s funny?” I asked, thrilled to hear that sound come out of him. “It’s weird to hear you say ‘fucker,’” he explained with a weary smile.
