Binding 13 (Boys of Tommen, #1)

by Chloe Walsh

Moments later, I was free-falling backwards, tumbling down the muddy bank, the pain ricocheting through my head making it impossible for me to think clearly or break my own fall. My last coherent thought before I hit the ground with a thud, and a thick cloud of darkness cloaked over me, was this: Nothing changes. I was wrong, though. Everything changed after that day. Everything.

gaze, I turned around and locked eyes on the crumpled ball on the edge of the pitch. “Oh shite,” I muttered when my mind made sense of what I was seeing. The girl. The fucking girl who’d been prancing around the pitch was laid out on her back on the grass. A ball lay on the grass beside her. Not just any ball. My bleeding ball! I was horrified, my feet moving before my brain could catch up. I ran toward her, heart hammering against my rib cage every step of the way. “Hey—are you okay?” I called out, closing the space between us. A soft female groan came from her lips as she attempted to get to her feet. She was trying to stand up and failing miserably, clearly startled. Unsure of what to do, I reached down to help her up, but she quickly slapped my hands away. “Don’t touch me,” she cried out, tone a little slurred, and the jolting caused her to fall onto her knees. “Okay!” I automatically took a step back and held my hands up. “I’m so sorry.”

Her hair was a total mess, tumbling loosely down her small shoulders, with pieces of mud and grass caked to the tendrils. When she reached me, she slapped the ball against my chest and hissed, “Is this your ball?” I was so struck down by the sight of this tiny mud-covered girl that I just nodded like a fucking eejit. Jesus Christ, who was this girl? Clearing my throat, I took the ball from her and said, “Uh, yeah. It’s my ball.” She was tiny, seriously fucking small, barely reaching my chest in height.

A pained hissing sound tore from her throat then, and the hand she was using to hold her skirt shot to her temple, causing the scrap of fabric to fall away from her body. My eyes widened of their own accord, an unfortunate reaction of seeing a female’s underwear. Wolf whistles and cheering erupted from the lads. “Oh god,” she cried out, scrambling clumsily to retrieve her skirt. “Go on, gorgeous!” “Give us a twirl!” “Fuck off, you assholes!” I roared at my teammates, stepping in front of the girl to block their view. I could hear the lads cracking up behind me, laughing and talking shite, but I couldn’t concentrate on a word they were saying because the sound of my heart hammering in my chest was deafening me. “Here.” Reaching for the hem of my jersey, I pulled it over my head and ordered, “Put that on.” “It’s filthy,” she sobbed, but didn’t stop me when I pulled it down over her head. She slipped her hands into the sleeves and I felt an immense amount of relief when the hem fell to her knees, covering her up. Christ, she really was a tiny little thing.

They could look all they wanted; my only concern was getting this girl’s head checked out.

“Look at me.” I shook her head. “Look at my face.” This time she did. 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.

“Who are you?” she croaked out, depending entirely on my hands to keep her head upright. “I’m Johnny,” I told her, biting back a smirk. “Who are you?” “Shannon,” she whispered. Her eyelids drooped a little but quickly sprung back open when I nudged her cheeks. “Like the river,” she added with a small sigh.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she continued to mumble, eyes cast downward. “I’ll be the talk of the school.” “Look at me.” She didn’t. “Hey—” I paused and tipped her chin up with my thumb and forefinger. Once I was satisfied I had her attention again, I carried on. “No one is going to say a word about you.” “But they all saw me—” “Nobody is going to open their mouth about it.” Realizing my tone was bordering on angry, I brought it down a notch and tried again. “Not the team, Coach, or anyone else. I won’t let them.” She blinked her confusion. “You won’t let them?” “That’s right,” I confirmed with a nod. “I won’t let them.” “You promise?” she whispered, a tiny smile pulling at her swollen lips. “Yeah,” I replied gruffly, feeling like I would promise all the fucking promises in the world just to make this girl feel better. “I’ve got your back.” “No, you got my head,” she croaked out. She glanced down at her body and sighed. “Actually, I think you ruined all of me.” Thank fuck for that, because you’re ruining all of me right now, I thought to myself.

But it was those wild eyes that really struck me, and I had this crazy urge to google eye color charts just so I could figure out the fucking color blue in her eyes. I would do that later, I decided. Creepy or not, I needed to know.

“Are you cold?” She looked up at me with a sleepy expression. “Huh?” “Cold,” I repeated, resisting the urge to run my hands up and down her arms. “Are you warm enough? Should I get you a blanket or something?” “I’m…” She paused and glanced down at her knees. Releasing a small sigh, she looked back to my face and said, “I’m actually hot.” “Completely fucking accurate assessment.” The highly inappropriate response was out of my mouth before I had a chance to filter myself. I quickly followed it up by touching her forehead, my pathetic attempt at checking her temperature, and then nodding solemnly. “You’re definitely warm.” “I told you.” Her big eyes were wide and locked on mine. “I’m really, really hot.” God.

“So,” I tossed out casually, trying to distract myself from my wayward thoughts. “What year are you in?” Please say fifth year. Please. Please. Please, God, make her say fifth year. “Third year.” Yeah, and that was that. She was in third year. And just like that, I watched my five-minute dream float out the window. Fuck. My. Life.

“I’m looking for some information on a student.” Dee frowned. “Information on a student?” “Yeah.” I nodded, widening my smile. “Shannon Lynch.” Who had I been fooling, with distracting myself with reality TV? I was an obsessive bastard by nature, with a one-track mind that was currently—and solely—programmed on her. I had to know more. I needed more. I wasn’t thick enough to think this didn’t matter. Or that my reaction to McGarry in the changing rooms earlier didn’t matter. It mattered that she was able to do this to me. It mattered that, hours later, I was still thinking about her, wondering about her, and inevitably worrying about her. It mattered that she mattered when no one ever mattered to me before. Fuck, now I was confused about all the matters.

Horrified didn’t being to describe my feelings when I was finished reading. Pissed off didn’t quite fit the bill, either. Disgusted, disturbed, and wholly enraged seemed a more accurate assessment of my feelings. Jesus, it was like reading a goddamn police report of a domestic violence victim. No wonder Shannon’s mother flipped the fuck out on me today. If I were in her position, I would have done a lot worse. Christ, now I was even more pissed with myself for hurting her than I was earlier. Who the hell did this?

I did keep the envelope though, the one I had found in my locker the week I returned to school, with the hastily scrawled From my people to your people on the front. The two fifty-euro notes I had given to Mam when I got home from school, but I had tucked the envelope into my pillowcase for safekeeping. I didn’t have an explanation for why I didn’t throw it out, the same way I couldn’t explain why my body broke out in a cold sweat, my hands turning clammy, my heart fluttering rapidly, and my stomach twisting itself up in knots, whenever I laid eyes on him. Well, that wasn’t technically true. There was an obvious, perfectly logical reason for my reaction toward him. He was beautiful. Every single time I spotted him in the hallways, it was as if every delayed urge, feeling, and hormone that had been lying dormant inside of my body for the last fifteen years had erupted to life. I was achingly aware of him; my body shifting into high alert whenever our arms brushed in the crowded hallways between classes. But it wasn’t his looks or enormous muscular build that had coaxed my stubborn hormones out of hibernation. It was the way he had been that day.

My entire focus was on the pair of blue eyes that were staring right back at me. Usually, when he caught me staring, I would look away or duck my face, but this time I couldn’t. I felt snared. Completely and utterly ensnared in his gaze. Johnny tilted his head to one side, regarding me with a curious expression, the earlier irritation in his eyes replaced with something I couldn’t quite decipher.

“It’s a harmless game of flirting to him that won’t amount to anything.” “What about you?” I asked, tone gentle. “What’s it to you?” Claire chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds before whispering, “Torment.”

Shannon Lynch had eyes the color of midnight blue that wouldn’t stay the fuck out of my head. At least that’s the closest comparison I could find on the countless internet searches I had performed. Color chart searches on the internet were confusing, but not nearly as baffling as my fucked-up brain that, like a broken record, seemed to be stuck on repeat. My brain’s track of choice: Shannon like the river, with the gorgeous blue eyes, face of an angel, and the troubled past.

Shannon was liked at Tommen. Teachers liked her. Students liked her. I fucking liked her. That was the problem.

Throwing myself into my routine, I attempted to ignore and forget about Shannon, choosing to concentrate on the game and ignore all distractions around me—pussy being the most dangerous kind of distraction. I really fucking tried. But then one of the lads would bring her up in conversation, or she’d pass me in the hallway at school, and I was back to square one. I couldn’t understand it and tried not to think too much into it. But it didn’t stop her from coming up in every conversation I’d been involved in since her arrival at Tommen.

The minute I laid eyes on her, something had hit me hard in the chest. Something unfamiliar and disconcerting. Over a month had passed and I was still reeling. We were into February and I was still silently obsessing over Shannon like the river. I didn’t like it and I liked her even less for being the sole cause of my uncertainty. It didn’t make sense.

I hadn’t realized Gibsie had followed me up the path until I heard him let out an earsplitting wolf whistle. “You’re looking well, Claire-Bear!” Curious, I followed his train of vision only to find two familiar-looking blonds huddled under the awning outside the science building. One of said girls was scowling back at us with her middle finger directed toward my best friend. “Watching me train again?” Gibsie called across the courtyard. “You know I love when you do that.” It took me a few seconds to recognize the leggy blond as Hughie Biggs’s baby sister. “What was that?” Claire called back, cupping her ear with her hand. “I can’t hear you.” “Go out with me!” “Get stuffed, Gerard!” “You know you want to,” Gibsie laughed, twiddling his fingers at her in salute. “My little brown-eyed girl.” “Don’t do it, Gerard!” Claire’s face turned bright red. “Don’t you dare sing that—” Gibs cut her off with a verse of Van Morrison. “I hate you, Gerard Gibson!” Claire hissed when he was done serenading her like a demented crow. “And I love you, too,” he said, laughing, before turning his attention to me and stifling a groan. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned so that only I could hear him. “I swear to god, lad, that girl drives me crazy.” “You’re already crazy,” I reminded him. “You don’t need anyone’s help with that.” “Look at her, Johnny,” he groaned, ignoring my jab. “Look at how beautiful that girl is. Christ, it might be that sunshine hair, but I swear she glows.” “Don’t even think about it,...

“Are you relieved Bella ended whatever the fuck you’d call what you two were doing because you were tired of Bella?” He studied my face for a few moments before adding, “Or because you’re into the girl?” His question caused me to pause mid-button. “The girl?” “Yeah, the girl.” “What girl?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “The fucking girl, Johnny,” Gibsie growled, throwing his hands up. “The one you knocked out. The one I took a molesting off Dee for so I could get her file. The one you spend your days swapping gooey eyes with at school.” “Gooey eyes?” Pulling my jumper down over my stomach, I stepped into my shoes. “What the hell are gooey eyes?” “Swooning eyes,” Gibsie snapped, exasperated now. “Smoldering gazes. Fuck-me looks. I-want-to-eat-your pussy signals.” He shook his head and reached for a can of deodorant out of his gear bag. “Whatever you want to call them.” “You’re tapped, Gibs,” I announced, deciding on deflection. “Seriously, man, sometimes I really worry about what’s going on in that head of yours.” “There’s nothing wrong with my head, Kavs. You’re the one with the fucked-up eye twitch whenever that girl is about the place.” He tossed the deodorant toward me and I caught it midair. “Don’t think I haven’t copped what’s going on there.” “Don’t know what you’re talking about, lad.” I reached under my shirt and sprayed my pits. “My eyes are in perfect working order.” “Your dick’s in perfect working order, too,” he shot back. He pulled his school jumper over his he...

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. You clearly like Sharon.” “Her name isn’t Sharon.” I shot him a dirty look and then returned to packing up my bag. “It’s Shannon, and I don’t like her.” “That was a trick question.” He grinned. “And you passed with flying colors.” I grunted my response. His grin widened even further when he said, “And yeah, you do.” “No, I fucking don’t.” “Well, I think you should ask this Shannon girl out,” Gibsie added, hauling his bag onto his shoulder. “What’s the worst that could happen?” “I could get arrested,” I offered sarcastically. “She’s fifteen.” “No, you could not get arrested,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re seventeen, idiot, not seventy!” “For three more months.” I pulled my jumper on and stood up. “And besides, this conversation is irrelevant.” Picking up my gear bag, I tossed it over my shoulder before adding, “I don’t ask girls out.” I walked over to the changing room door and yanked it open. “I don’t have time for that shite.” “Hughie’s girlfriend, Katie, is in the year below him,” Gibsie offered, strolling out of the changing room. “And Pierce O’Neill is in our year and he’s been knocking around for ages with Claire’s bitchy gal pal—who is in third year, by the way.” “Hughie doesn’t have the Academy breathing down his neck,” I replied flatly as I followed him outside. “And Pierce O’Neill can fool around with whoever the fuck he wants.” “Relax.” Gibsie raised his hands. “All I’m saying is it wouldn’t be a big deal if you liked h...

“He called me a frigit bitch and broke up with me right there on the dance floor in front of the entire school,” she replied. “What a creep,” I spat out. “It’s okay,” Lizzie interjected. “Claire got her own back on him, didn’t you?” “Not intentionally,” she objected. “Oh, come off it.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You knew exactly what he would do when you went crying to him.” “Who?” I asked. “What did you do?” Lizzie smirked. “She went running to her shadow.” I arched a brow. “Who?” “Gibsie,” Lizzie filled in. “Oh my god.” My eyes lit up. “What did he do?” “What do you think he did?” Lizzie shot back. “He jumped in to defend her honor.” “He didn’t!” “He did,” Claire chirped gleefully. “He broke Jamie’s nose,” Lizzie added. Claire sighed happily. “It was epic.”

Claire’s bedroom door burst inward then, startling all three of us. “Oh my god,” Claire shrieked, tossing a pillow at the tall blond boy who had invaded her privacy. “I have a problem!” Gibsie announced, catching the pillow midair. “Gerard!” Claire hissed, glaring. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” “There’s no time,” he replied. “I need your help, babe.” “I’m not your babe,” Claire grumbled and tossed another pillow at him. “What if I had been naked in here?” “Then I would die a happy man,” he retorted as the second pillow smacked against his chest.

My face turned a bright shade of red at the mention of Johnny’s name. “Yeah, we’ve met.” “He’ll have gotten the call up by then,” Gibsie added proudly. “It’ll be a double celebration and a session and a half that night.” The call up? What call up? I wanted to ask him about it, but I held my tongue, knowing that it wouldn’t do me any good. I didn’t need to add any more Johnny-obsessed thoughts into my already Johnny-filled mind. “He’s coming out with us tonight,” Gibsie continued to ramble on, oblivious to my blushing. “Which is a fucking miracle in itself considering he never comes out with us anymore.” He opened the front door of the Biggs’ house and gestured for me to walk in first. “Hughie’s actually picking Kav and Feely up after dropping Katie home.” Glancing at the clock hanging in the kitchen, he added, “They’ll be here in a few. You should wait around down here and say hi to him.” Winking, he added, “I bet he’d love to see you.” Was he teasing me? I didn’t think so. But he was definitely stirring. I just wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit or not. Either way, I was not staying downstairs to say hi to anyone. “No, that’s okay,” I mumbled, feeling every ounce of blood rush to my face. “The girls are waiting for me.” “Suit yourself, little Shannon,” Gibsie said, chuckling. “Happy birthday.” Offering him a weak wave, I turned to bolt up the staircase. “Have a nice night.” “Will do,” he called after me. I didn’t have to turn around to see he was grinning; I could hear ...

“Your future wife saved me from a bad fucking pussy today,” he slurred. “Buy a ring, lad.” Slinging an arm over my shoulder, he added, “Pussy whisperer’s a keeper.”

“Did you ever talk to Shannon Lynch after that day on the pitch?” I turned my bleary gaze on him, too drunk to mask my curiosity. “My Shannon?” Hughie laughed. “She’s your Shannon now?” I shrugged, too drunk to defend or deny.

Johnny’s attention wasn’t on the medic or the referee shouting commands in his ear. He was too busy looking at me. My heart slammed against my rib cage as he stared unabashedly and unashamedly right at me—eyes burning with heat, expression palpably intense. Breathing hard, he lifted the hem of his jersey and used the fabric to wipe the blood from his brow, dismantling the poor woman’s attempts at patching him up and revealing a stomach of hard abs. The move was so primal, so decidedly male, that it hit me straight in the chest. My face began to flame and I felt my shoulders sag as I buckled under the weight of his intense gaze. “What the hell is that?” Claire hissed excitedly, gripping my hand. “Johnny Kavanagh is staring at you, Shan. Like seriously, girl, that boy is staring at you!” “Crap.”

Tommen had won. And I was reeling. “You have some explaining to do, missy,” Claire squealed as she bounced up and down in celebration. “Woo-hoo! Go, Tommen, go!” “Explaining?” I called back. “About what?” “About why that boy down there is looking at you like he wants to eat you up,” she replied, and then pointed a blatantly obvious finger right at Johnny—who was staring right at me again. “I don’t know,” I choked out. “I have no idea what’s happening here.” All of his teammates were running around like lunatics, leaping and jumping around in celebration, and Johnny looked distracted. He was quite literally swamped by people, ranging from teachers to students to local journalists and cameramen with microphones thrust in his face. The thing that stood out was his immaculate composure. None of this was fazing him. Not one bit. He looked the epitome of cool, calm, and collected as he answered reporters and thanked the supporters clapping his shoulders, but every few moments, his gaze flickered back to me. I didn’t understand it. Worse, having his attention thrilled me.

“Claire-Bear!” a familiar voice called out. Claire spun around and I swear her entire face lit up when she noticed Gibsie jogging toward us. “You did it!” she screamed and then flung herself at him. He seemed as excited as she did and caught her. I watched them for several minutes, swinging each other around, completely caught up in their own bubble as they talked animatedly about different points in the game. Either Claire was clueless, Gibsie was clueless, or they were both as blind as each other because I could feel, see, and taste the chemistry wafting off them.

“You remember who I am, right?” he asked, still smiling, although he looked a little nervous now, probably because I was staring at him like a creeper. “Shannon like the river.” Oh god. “Yeah,” I choked out, feeling every ounce of blood in my body rush to my cheeks as I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I remember you.” Unsure of what else to say or do, I stupidly raised a hand and waved. “Hi, Johnny.” What was wrong with me? Seriously? Did I just wave at him? While I was talking to him? God… The smile he was sporting grew into a full, perfectly straight pearly-white smile. “Hi, Shannon.” Oh crackers… “Well, I’m good,” I said, tone a little strained. “And you’re good. So, it’s all…good.” “That’s good,” he replied, lips twitching. “Yeah, it’s all good,” I answered, cringing at my awkwardness. Johnny smirked down at me. “Good.” Mortified, I looked up at his face and then quickly away again as I strived to never utter the word good again. “I watched your match,” I blurted out instead. “Congratulations.” Oh yeah, Shannon, because that’s much better. You should have stuck with good, idiot! “I know,” Johnny replied with a small smile. “I saw you.” I opened my mouth to say something, anything to save myself, but I came up empty and shrugged helplessly instead. “Did you get my note?” Johnny asked, thankfully saving me from trying to form a coherent sentence. “Yeah, and I wanted to thank you for the money,” I told him, voice small. “I just didn’t know if I should—” “Don...

“Give us a picture for the paper, will ya, son?” I was fairly sure I heard Johnny mutter the words fuck off under his breath but he turned to the photographer and gave him a polite nod. “No problem.” “Good man yourself,” the photographer praised and pointed the camera at Johnny, only to halt and turn to me. “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. The photographer arched a brow and gave me a curious look, but quickly hurried to snap what felt like a million snaps. The flashes coming from his camera were blinding, and when they were joined by many more flashes from other photographers, I began to shake with anxiety. What the hell was happening? “Alright, that’s enough,” Johnny declared as he held a hand up and released my hip. “Thanks for coming out today. Appreciate the support.” “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 co...

What possessed me to go over to Shannon, I’ll never know, but everyone was screaming around me, the crowd was in my face, I needed a reprieve, and I saw her standing there, all big eyes and lonesome, and something just shifted inside of me. In the moment it made sense to just go over and talk to her. Because I didn’t want her to be on her own. Because I could hardly concentrate during the game, knowing she was watching me. Because when she turned around to leave, my legs moved of their own accord, desperate to intercept her.

I can give you a spin home when you want to go? What the actual fuck? I might as well have shouted, Love me, fucking love me at the girl.

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.

“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?”

My gaze found its way back to Johnny, who was standing at the edge of the table with a thunderous expression etched on his face. “Bye, Johnny,” I told him in a small voice. His features softened instantly as he looked down at me and smiled. “Bye, Shannon.”

“No,” I snapped, jerking away from his touch. “I’m not interested.” “Come on, Shannon,” he snapped, tone heated now, eyes flashing with frustration. “Look around.” He clamped his hand on my shoulder again, not gently this time. “No one’s going to see us—” Ronan didn’t have the chance to finish that statement before he was carted off—literally dragged away by the scruff of his neck by a much bigger, much older boy. “You’re a suicidal little fucker, aren’t you?” the boy was saying in an oddly light tone as he sauntered down the hallway with his huge hand cupping the back of Ronan’s neck, forcing him to double over and waddle to keep up with the boy’s long strides. He was dressed in the same attire: a black-and-white-striped jersey, white shorts, and boots that made clickety sounds against the floor as he walked, sods of muck and grass falling away from the studs. The only contrast was a number 9 on the back of Ronan’s jersey and a number 7 on the big guy. Immediate recognition hit me. Number 7. Gerard “Gibsie” Gibson. Claire’s crush. The cat walker. The

“You know he’s going to kill you, don’t you?” Gibsie asked, tone laced with humor as he walked Ronan over to the front entrance and then ceremoniously tossed him out the double glass doors.

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…”

A gentle tap on my shoulder drew my attention away from my phone call. Spinning around, I looked up and locked eyes with Johnny. “I can take you home,” he said, blue eyes locked on mine. “Huh?” I opened my mouth but nothing but blabbering came out. “My car’s parked outside.” He inclined his head toward the entrance. “I can take you home.” “I, uh, I…” Shaking my head, I sucked in a sharp breath and tried again. “No, no, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” “I know I don’t have to,” he replied slowly. “I’m offering.” “Do what?” Joey barked down the line. “Shan? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” “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 w...

“Good night, Ma,” I bit out and turned to leave. “One more thing?” Mam called after me. Inhaling a calming breath, I turned back to her. “Yes?” “Who’s this?” she asked, lips twitching as she tapped her finger on the newspaper lying open on the counter. I frowned. “Who’s who?” With a huge smile on her face, she picked up the newspaper and held it up to show me. “This,” Ma asked, full-on grinning now, as she tapped her nail on a huge-ass full-color picture of me with Shannon at the School Boy Shield game last week. “Local or national?” “National.” Fuck. My. Life. “Give me that,” I snapped, stalking over to get a better look. Snatching the paper out of my mother’s hands, I stared down at the girl who’d been driving me crazy for the best part of two months. Jesus, she looked gorgeous, all wide-eyed and smiling as I held her to my side. Her brown hair was loose and blowing in the breeze. The top of her head grazed my armpit, that’s how tiny she was. And then my heart skipped in my chest when I read the caption. Johnny Kavanagh, 17, pictured with school friend Shannon Lynch as they celebrated Tommen College’s win over Kilbeg in the final of the School Boy Shield last Friday. Kavanagh captained his school to their fifth win in a row of the Shield, clocking up another piece of silverware in his impressive career and putting to bed any rumors of existing injuries. The pretty schoolgirl was fresh-faced and beaming for the cameras as she congratulated Kavanagh on another win. When as...

I couldn’t get her out of my head. Midnight fucking blue eyes and painfully accurate words. And now it was worse because not only was she in my thoughts 24/7, but I had a bleeding picture of her to torment myself with. And I would torment myself with that picture. I planned on it.

“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?” “What?” “Your face,” he bit out. “Your cheek is red.” “I’m fine,” I choked out, taking a safe step back from his overly observant eyes. It was only then that I noticed he was still holding my wrist. Johnny obviously noticed it, too, because he quickly dropped my hand and took a step back himself, then ran a hand through his mussed-up hair. “What happened to your face?” My father beat me with a newspaper… “Uh, don’t worry about that,” I muttered, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand to erase any residual evidence of tears. “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.”

“I mean it, Bella,” I snarled, feeling a surge of anger rise up inside of me. “I’m not fucking around here. Keep your distance from her.” “Well,” she mused, eyes narrowed. “Look who’s showing emotion now.” She was absolutely right. I was showing emotion. Because I cared. I cared a great deal more about a girl I barely knew than I ever did Bella. It was warped, and confusing, and completely fucked up, but I did. Instead of admitting this terrifying new development, I said, “Leave. Her. Alone.”

“Come on,” he said in a coaxing tone as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, tucked me into his side, and led me out of school. “I’ll take care of you.”

she went and almost gave me a bleeding heart attack. Honest to god, I’d never felt fear like I did when I saw her collapse on the floor next to her locker. I knew it was a stupid idea to follow her back into school, but I needed to check on her. To be honest, I was afraid of Bella intercepting her. Finding her on the floor like that was beyond terrifying. My heart literally seized in my chest when I saw her and only kick-started back up when I got to her and realized that she was okay. She was mortified, but she was okay. I didn’t care about puke. Everyone puked. Even girls. Apparently, this girl did it a lot. I remembered exactly what was written in the file. She threw up a lot. That worried me. More than it should. What worried me further was why this happened. Shannon was clearly an anxiety puker. It was as good as written in her school file. For Christ’s sake, she brought a toothbrush to school with her. I was burning with my own form of anxiety from the need to know what had upset her. I didn’t want to push my luck though, or make the situation worse, so I kept my mouth shut.

Leaving her felt all wrong. Drive away, Johnny. Turn the car around and leave. She’s fine. She’s perfectly fine. Concentrate on the game, Kav. You have training. You do not need to be losing your head over a girl. Shaking my head, I switched the car into gear and forced myself to get a bleeding grip of myself and just drive. It didn’t work. Because I couldn’t go. Throwing the car into neutral, I shoved open my car door and climbed out. “Wait!” Shannon spun around and stared at me with wide eyes. “Huh?” What are you doing, Kav? What the fuck are you doing? “Come with me.” The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop myself or take them back. “Come where with you?” Shannon whispered, gaze flicking from me to the house down the street. I don’t know, Shannon. I don’t fucking know. I have no bleeding clue what’s happening to me. I just know that my gut is telling me not to leave you right now. “Anywhere?” I offered, and then cleared my throat before adding, “We could go for a drive? Or get something to eat?” Jesus, what was wrong with me? I saw something flash across her eyes then, something that looked an awful lot like relief. “You want me to?” Shannon asked in a small voice. “Come with you?” I nodded uncertainly. “Yeah, Shannon.” My voice was thick. “I want you to come with me.”

“Your gain,” he scoffed, as he swirled a clunk of ice around in his glass. “Wow,” I snorted, slipping the chocolate back into my pocket. “If I was a bigger girl, you could have seriously hurt my feelings.” “What?” Panic flashed across his face. “Fuck, no! It was a joke.” He leaned forward in his seat. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t calling you fat… You’re the tiniest thing I’ve ever… Shite, you’re so small I could—” “Relax,” I snickered. “I’m not offended.” Johnny stared at me for a long beat and then released a heavy breath. “Jesus Christ, I almost had a heart attack there.” Rubbing his chest, he smiled impishly. “I know how mental most girls can get over their weight.” “Well, I’m not like most girls,” I replied with a grimace and gestured to myself. “As you can see.” “No,” Johnny confirmed quietly, eyes following my hand movements. “No, you’re not.”

BROOO