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Aoif: (like reef without the r) Aoife: E-fa Caoimhe: Kee-va Eoghan: Owen Gardaí: Gar-dee Neasa: Nasa Sadhbh: Sigh-ve
Sean: Shawn Sinead: Shin-aid Tadhg: Tie-g (like tiger but without the r at the end)
“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.”
“What happened?” he demanded, glaring down at me. “Who the fuck made you cry?”
“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?”
“Make sure your girlfriend gets it,” I hissed, glowering down at him. “Because if she doesn’t—” I paused to point at both the blond and the redhead before continuing. “If she or any of her whore friends even look at my girlfriend again, I’m coming for you.”
“I want to be here with you.
I just wanted her.
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 on fire.”
“Johnny’s jersey number is thirteen,”
“And binding is a rugby reference for engaging in a scrum—although I’m pretty sure those girls meant engaging with Johnny in a whole different position.”
“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.”
“Boom, boom, fucking boom, Da,” I groaned, slapping a hand against my chest. “I’m done for.”
