Binding 13 (Boys of Tommen, #1)

by Chloe Walsh

“Move out the way, will ya, love?” “Oh, right, sorry!” I squeaked and scrambled to back out of the line of the lens. “We were talking,” Johnny bit out. He cast a scathing glare at the photographer and then walked right over to me. “Smile,” he instructed quietly as he pulled me in to his side and clamped his huge muddy hand on my hip. Stunned, I stared up at him. “Huh?” “Smile,” Johnny repeated calmly, tucking me under his arm. Frazzled, I turned back to face the photographer and did exactly what Johnny told me to do. I beamed.

“Johnny, Johnny?” one of the women crowding us called out. “What’s your relationship?” “Private,” Johnny shot back coolly. “What’s your name, love?” the original photographer asked, as he pulled a pen out of his coat pocket. Trembling, I just stood there, feeling like a dummy, feeling a million pairs of curious eyes on my face. “Shannon Lynch,” Johnny stated with a clipped nod, and then, ignoring the half dozen photographers watching us, he turned his attention back to me. “Are you coming to the party after school?” “What are they doing?” I asked uncertainly, unable to focus on what he just said, because I was too busy eyeing the photographer writing something on the back of his hand and several other reporters skulking nearby. “Ignore them,” Johnny said with a shake of his head. “They’ll go away.” “They’re watching you,” I whispered. “And I think they’re watching me?” Releasing a frustrated growl, Johnny turned around. “I’m at school,” he stated in a sharp tone. “On school grounds. With a minor.”

He eyed me curiously. “You don’t like that sort of thing?” “That was horrible,” I choked out. “All that attention over a silly game.” Johnny gave me another curious look. I stared back at him, feeling totally confused. “So, are you coming?” Johnny asked. When I continued to stare blankly at him, he clarified. “To the party. Hughie’s ma is throwing on a spread for the team at their house.” “Me?” “Yes, you,” he replied, giving me a peculiar look. My heart rate increased to a dangerous level as I stared up at this beautiful boy who was asking me to a party. Wait, was he asking me, or inviting me? Oh god, I didn’t know. Frowning, Johnny added, “You’re friends with his sister, Claire, aren’t you?” “Oh.” I shook my head vigorously. “Oh, ah, no, I’m not. I mean, yes, I am friends with Claire, but I’m not going to the party.” He arched a brow. “How come?” “Because I’m not allowed to go anywhe—” I stopped myself short and quickly steered my words in a safer direction. “I have to help my mam in the evenings.” “She’s pregnant,” he stated in a thoughtful tone. “Yep,” I replied and then, because I was a glutton for making a situation uncomfortable, I added, “She’s due in August.” “Congratulations?” Johnny offered, shifting uncomfortably. Nice work, Shannon, I mentally hissed. “Thanks,” I replied, squirming. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he asked then. “I won’t be drinking so I can give you a spin home when you want to go—”

I had spent every minute of those two hours mentally kicking myself for not taking Johnny up on his offer. What the hell was wrong with me? I liked him. I really liked him.

thinking about a girl who couldn’t seem to get away from me fast enough. That showed it all right there. Everyone else was drinking and enjoying themselves, while I refueled on protein and drove myself demented over a girl. Was this what rejection felt like? If so, it fucking sucked.

“What about Mr. MOM himself? If anyone should be kicking back, then it’s you.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gibsie called out over the music, noticing my attempt at leaving. “Sit your ass down there, Cap,” he ordered, plowing through the crowd toward me. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

“Anyways”—he chuckled—“getting down to business, I have a little song I’d like to sing for the special person in my life.” Oohs and awwws came from a group of girls in the doorway. I rolled my eyes at how easily the pretty-boy flanker could charm them. Gibsie cleared his throat for added effect, and then said, “Without this special someone’s magical fucking hands, I wouldn’t be standing here today with this gorgeous piece of silverware.” He shook his head and pressed a hand to his heart. “Thank you, baby!” From the looks I was receiving from the lads, and the snickering coming from Robbie and Luke, I realized Gibsie’s party piece was going to be at my expense. “Don’t do anything stupid!” I warned Gibsie just as he reached over and pressed a button on the stereo.

Immediately, I knew what was coming. That fucker… “Johnny, baby,” my asshole best friend called out with feigned passion in his voice, pointing his strapped-up fingers in my direction. “This one’s for you,”

where I was then thrust into the air and held up by my teammates. Feely, the turncoat, was inconsolable as he laughed his arse off at my expense. Oh yeah, they could laugh all they wanted now, but I was going to bury those fuckers at training on Monday.

“Why are you going to the shop so late?” I questioned. “What do you need that’s so important?” Joey grinned. “Do you want me to answer that honestly?” “No,” I groaned, fake gagging when awareness dawned on me. “Go away.”

“I’ve just spent the last hour and a half trying to shove him out of my bedroom.” “Why was he in your room?” “To gloat,” she explained. “Shaking his little green license around like he was king of the hill.” “What does Gibsie getting his driving license have to do with next weekend?” “His parents bought him a car for his birthday last week,” she explained. “He wants all of us to go for a spin with him.” My brows shot up. “Who’s all of us?” “The usual gang,” Claire replied breezily. “Me, Gerard, Hughie, Katie, Pierce, Lizzie, Patrick, Johnny, and you of course.”

“Well, he can’t fit all those people in one car.” “Then maybe you can go in Johnny’s car,” Claire shot back in a teasing tone. “By the way, I saw you with him on the pitch Friday, you little flirt.” “I was not flirting with him,” I practically spluttered. “He came up to me.” “Better again.” She giggled. “He was the one doing the flirting.” “Nobody was flirting,” I choked out. “We were just—” “You were just what?” Claire teased. “Talking,” I filled in with a helpless shrug. “About what?” “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Just stuff, I guess?” “And taking pictures together,” she added with a cackle. “I saw that, too.” “Oh god.” I groaned in defeat and flopped back on my pillow. “I was caught so off guard,” I croaked out. “You should have heard me trying to talk to him,” I added, biting down on my lip. “I got tongue-tied and literally bombed my way through the entire conversation, Claire. It was completely humiliating.”

“You got tongue-tied because you like him,” she pressed. Not bothering to deny it, I just sighed down the line. “Oh my god,” she gasped, tone excited. “Are you finally admitting you like him?” I nodded and then realized she couldn’t see me. “I don’t think there’s any point in denying it,” I whispered, feeling my face burn at the thought. “I like him, Claire. I think I really like him.” “Oh wow, Shan,” Claire replied gently. “This is big for you.” She was right. It was huge. And scary. Absolutely terrifying. “It’s ridiculous,” I muttered glumly. “I don’t even know him.”

“Gerard is always borrowing my phone,” she explained. “ He is always calling Johnny when he uses my phone. Johnny’s practically his Siamese twin. So, I stored Johnny’s number under Call for Sex.” Snickering she added, “It was so funny. Gerard was so mad with me—demanding to know who I was hooking up with and why it wasn’t him listed under that name.”

He was better. So much better. “So, will you come with us next weekend?” she asked. “I won’t be allowed to go.” “Come on, Shan, you can’t just say no,” Claire whined. “Not without asking, at least?” “I don’t need to ask, Claire,” I croaked out. “I already know the answer.” “Then don’t ask him,” she quickly said. “Just make up an excuse or something and come over to mine. We don’t even have to go with the lads.” I sighed heavily. “Claire—” “We can have dinner at my house,” she hurried to say. “And you know, if Johnny just happened to stop by because of a rogue text message sent from my phone, then maybe you two could go up to my room and—” “Stop it,” I warned her, shivering at the thought. Claire laughed down the line. “I’m kidding.” “You better be,” I grumbled. “Because I would die.”

Gibsie was scowling at me. “Could you stop staring at her for five fucking minutes and pretend to be listening to me,” Gibsie hissed. “Seriously, lad.” Tossing his sandwich down on the lunch table, he threw his hands up in frustration. “It’s getting creepy, and you’re putting me off my food.” “I’m not doing anything,” I grumbled as I leaned back in my chair and rolled my water bottle between my hands absentmindedly.

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.

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.

“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,”

“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’...

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 said, laughing. 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.”

“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.

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.

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 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.”

“Sleepover time.”

“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—”

My heart skyrocketed in my chest at the sound of that achingly familiar Dublin accent.

He smirked. “I’m good.” Dammit, there was that word again…

“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.

“She-wolf can come, too,” he said to Claire. “If you promise to put a muzzle on her.”

“You know he’s going to kill you, don’t you?”

“That didn’t sound friendly, kid,” Gibsie taunted. “That sounded desperate—and a little rapisty.”

“You’re just going to lock me out of school because Johnny said no?” What? “Absolutely.” What the hell were they talking about? “He’s not my captain!” Ronan snarled, pressing his forehead to the glass. I was so confused. “Oh, but he is,” Gibsie called back, still laughing, and I was sure he was finding the situation highly amusing. “And dogs that can’t behave themselves around Cap’s new buddy stay outside.”

“For the threat, I’m going to fuck your mother, McGarry,” Gibsie shot back. “And then I’m going to cum all over her tits, and she’s going to love every minute of it.” With another chuckle, he said, “Go and tell uncle-coachy all about what I have planned with his sister.” “I’m going to kill you!” Ronan screamed, slamming his fists against the glass. “Suck my balls—” “What’s going on?” a familiar male voice boomed through the air. Recognition immediately dawned on me. I knew that accent. Without conscious decision, my eyes searched frantically for the owner of the voice, and when I found him, walking stiffly out of the lunch hall, holding an ice pack to his right thigh, my heart hammered wildly against my rib cage. Standing a good twenty or so feet away, I was at a visual disadvantage, but I was close enough to see how every inch of Johnny’s upper body strained against the confinement of his jersey, from his broad shoulders to his tree-trunk-sized biceps and long, lean torso. His legs were long, his thighs thick and muscular, all of which were caked in grass and mud. I noted the small tear on the sleeve of his jersey where his bicep was bulging. Lord, he was quite literally bursting out of the fabric.

“What did the little bollox do now?” Johnny demanded as he closed the space between himself and Gibsie.

My gaze danced between all three of them, moving from Ronan, who wasn’t yanking on the handle anymore—in fact, he’d taken a few steps away from the door—to Gibsie, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat, before landing and staying on Johnny. Seriously, as tall as Gibsie was, Johnny towered over him.

Seconds later, Johnny’s body visibly tensed. “What?” Tossing the ice pack on the floor, he balled his hands balled into fists at his sides as he turned to glare out the glass, revealing the number 13 on his back. He took a step forward, stopping just shy of the door when Gibsie clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re fucking kidding me!” Johnny roared, reacting to whatever his friend was whispering in his ear. Johnny’s head turned in Ronan’s direction before quickly snapping toward me. His eyes landed on my face, and holy crap, he looked livid. It was only a fleeting glance and he quickly turned his attention back to Ronan. This time I could clearly hear what he was saying. “I’m going to give you a five-second head start, prickface,” he roared through the glass panel. “And then I’m going to cut your cock off and feed it to you.” “Fuck you, Kavanagh,” Ronan shouted back, but his face was much paler than earlier. “You can’t touch me.” “One,” Johnny barked. “Two, three, four…” “What are you waiting for?” Gibsie called out, waving his hands in the air encouragingly. “Get going, Forrest.” Were they really going to fight? Over me? Was this really over me? It couldn’t be. They didn’t even know me. No way.

And to think God switched dinosaurs for man. He must be raging.

When no sounds of violence and shouting came from the other side, I opened the door and stepped out. Like a horrific case of déjà vu, I walked out of the bathroom and straight into a hard chest of muscle.

My body smacked into a hard chest of muscle, causing my schoolbag to fall to the floor from the impact. Instinctively, my hands darted out in front of my face, self-preservation mode activated. If I wasn’t so frightened, I would have been proud of the scream that tore from my chest. It was progress. Two large hands shot out, capturing my flailing limbs and steadying me. “Hey—hey, relax.” I recognized the hint of a Dublin accent immediately. “Shh, relax. It’s just me.” Sagging in relief, I looked up at his face, registering the familiarity. “Oh god.” My words came out in a sharp gasp as I stared up at him, breathing hard and fast. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” “Shite, sorry about that.” Johnny released me and took a step back, holding his hands out in front of him. “You were in the bathroom so long I thought I’d need to call in a rescue crew or something.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. Gibsie told me what he said to you.” “He did?” “Yeah.” Johnny nodded grimly. “That fucker won’t be bothering you again.” “Ronan?” He nodded, jaw ticking. “Listen, I need you to trust me when I tell you that little scene with McGarry had more to do with me than you.” He shifted uncomfortably and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “He likes to push boundaries—mine more than most.” Push boundaries? More to do with him? “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I was so confused. “Thanks,” I added, because thanking him seemed like the right thing to do. “No problem.” “Did you, uh, catch him?” I asked, then immediately regretted my question. Why was I making conversation with him? That was my cue to leave. Why wasn’t I leaving? And why wouldn’t my heart stop trying to beat its way out of my chest? Was this going to happen every time I bumped into him? If so, I needed to get a prescription. “Ronan,” I clarified, digging myself a deeper hole. “You were counting to five.” “Like I said,” Johnny replied, jaw set in a tight line, “he won’t be bothering you again.” My eyes widened. “You didn’t kill him, did you?” He barked out a laugh. “No, Shannon, I didn’t kill him.” “Oh, okay.” I breathed a heavy sigh. “That’s good.” He tilted his head to one side, expression curious, voice soft. “Is it?” “Well, I–I… Yeah,” I choked out. “I guess it’s always good to avoid a murder charge.” “I guess that’s true,” he replied with a smirk. “Well, I’m, ah, o...

He was openly taking me in and made no attempt to be discreet about it. It was disconcerting and exciting at the same time.

“Oh, ah, just this guy from school,” I explained, face burning with heat. Johnny arched a brow. I flushed bright pink. My reaction brought a smile to Johnny’s full lips. “Guy?” my brother demanded, drawing my attention back to our phone call. “What guy?” “Just a guy I know,” I squeezed out, tone pitchy. Biting down on my bottom lip, I glanced up at Johnny and said, “Honestly, it’s fine. You don’t have to drive me home.” “Hold up—who’s driving you home, Shannon?” Joey barked down the line, distracting me once more. “Why are you talking to guys old enough to drive you home? You’re fifteen!” “I know what age I am, Joey,” I shot back, nerves frazzled. “Look, relax.” Pressing my palm to my forehead, I said, “I’ll wait here until my bus comes.” “Put him on the phone,” Joey ordered. “What?” I gaped. “Who?” “The lad who’s just a guy you know with a car,” he spat out, throwing my words back at me. I balked. “Why?” “Because I want to talk to him,” Joey replied impatiently. I peeked up at Johnny, who was looking at me expectantly. Dropping my gaze, I whispered, “Why do you want to talk to him?” “Because I want to talk to the fucker offering to take my baby sister home in his car, that’s why.” Letting out an impatient sigh, Johnny cleared his throat and held his hand out. I stared at his hand and blinked in confusion. “Give me your phone,” he instructed calmly. “My phone?” “Yes.” Johnny nodded. “Your phone.” When I made no move to hand it over, Johnny swiped it out of my hand and pres...

Like a lamb to the slaughter, I went with him, knowing this was a terrible idea, but unable to stop my feet from moving. There was only a handful of students in the corridors, but I swear I felt every one of their stares as I walked toward the front door with Johnny. Johnny yanked the glass door open and waited for me to step out before following me. I had no idea what to do—or say for that matter. I was so far out of my comfort zone, I could barely function. I felt a little light-headed if I was being honest. We walked side by side in silence through the courtyard and down the avenue toward the student car park. Even though today was March first, and the second month of spring in Ireland, it was dark outside, not to mention freezing cold. I wasn’t a fan of being outside in the dark, and I found myself sticking close to him. Concussion-giver or not, some part of my brain told me that I was safe with this boy.

I took a step back and shrugged, feeling a surge of heat flood my face and a whole truckload of relief to have been caught checking out his car and not his ass in those pants. Because I had totally checked that out, too. It was hard not to. It was round and firm and…

“It’s fifteen miles to my house. So, between the money, threatening to cut off Ronan’s penis, and the spin home, I think we can call it quits.”