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demure
“I’m actually hot.”
“Completely fucking accurate assessment.”
Please say fifth year. Please. Please. Please, God, make her say fifth year. “Third year.”
“It’s Shannon, and I don’t like her.” “That was a trick question.” He grinned. “And you passed with flying colors.”
“For the threat, I’m going to fuck your mother, McGarry,”
“Don’t talk about your virginity to me,” I groaned. “Why?” Mam replied. “Would you rather I talk about yours?”
“I am not lying,” I lied.
“Hi, Johnny.” “Boom, boom, fucking boom, Da,” I groaned, slapping a hand against my chest. “I’m done for.”
“I thought I lost you…and my head? My head is hiiiigh as balls, baby.”
“I love you, Shannon like the river,”
“I fucking love you,” Johnny said again.
“My sperm cord didn’t snap.” Johnny sighed happily. “No ball explosions.”
“See, Ma,” Johnny said in a groggy slur. “She’ll have my babies—”
“You’ll have my babies, won’t you?”
“Shannon, I am so sorry,” Mrs. Kavanagh strangled out.
“Say it,” Johnny groaned, clutching my hand. “Tell me you’ll have my babies.” “Johnny—” “Just tell me you will,” he begged loudly. “Just say it, Shannon! Please! I can’t take it.” “Sure?”
“She’s my wife,” he announced then, blowing my mind clean open.
“My father.”
