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She opened her eyes, and fuck me, I unintentionally sucked in a sharp breath. Jesus, this girl was beautiful. I’d noticed it earlier of course. She had a striking look about her. But now, seeing her up close like this and being able to count the freckles on her face—eleven by the way—it was hitting home just how striking she was.
Hands down, she possessed the most gorgeous pair of eyes I’d seen in my life.
Thank fuck for that, because you’re ruining all of me right now, I thought to myself.
“He apologized for what happened. He replaced my uniform. He stuck up for me at school when a boy was giving me trouble. He has been nothing but good to me,
“You are so concerned with fighting the bullies at school, Mam,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks, “when the biggest bully of them all lives under this roof.”
Johnny rewarded me with a boyish smirk that quickly morphed into a frown as he looked at my face. “What happened?” he demanded, glaring down at me. “Who the fuck made you cry?” “What?” I breathed, shaking my head. “I’m not crying.” “Your eyes are red and swollen,” he deadpanned. “You’ve been crying.” His eyes moved to my cheek. “The fuck happened to your face?”
“Give me a name,” Johnny growled, dropping his hands to his hips. “And I’ll take care of it.” “What—no! I’m grand,” I quickly replied. “I have allergies.” “Me too. To assholes and bullshit,” Johnny snarled. “Now, tell me who made you cry and I’ll fix it.”
“Now,” I sneered, glaring down at their faces. “Who wants to call my girlfriend a whore to my face?”
You could love this girl your whole life, the crazy thought persisted inside my brain over and over, if you just let yourself.
“I’m going to hug you,” Johnny whispered in my ear. “Tell me if that’s not okay.”
“Someone touched you,” Johnny whispered in my ear, placing his fingers on the marks. “I want to know who.”
Releasing an unsteady breath, I reached up, grabbed Johnny’s neck, and pulled his face down to mine. And then I kissed him.
“Jesus Christ,” Johnny groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Of course, I like you.” He tugged on his hair and sighed. “I think it’s pretty fucking clear that I’m mad about you.” Exhaling a pained groan, he added, “But I’ll be eighteen in May, Shannon.”
“She’s always been your Shannon.”
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.
“Boom, boom, fucking boom, Da,” I groaned, slapping a hand against my chest. “I’m done for.”
