Saving 6 (Boys of Tommen, #3)

by Chloe Walsh

“Holy shit.” My feet came to an abrupt stop the instant my eyes landed on a tall blond with the face of an angel, sitting on the retaining wall at the entrance of the school. “What?” Darren demanded, looking around us. “Where’s the fire?” Struck dumb at the sight of her, and with all notions gone of continuing any further conversation with my brother, I pointed to the girl whose long blond hair was splaying all around her in the breeze. “I don’t know her,” my brother noted. “She must be a first year.” Looking like nothing my eyes had ever seen, I watched as she sucked on a Chupa Chups lollipop, entirely uninterested in the lad attempting to talk to her while her long legs dangled from the wall. “Jesus Christ.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t care if you’re gay or not. You can’t deny that girl is the best-looking thing your eyes have ever seen.”

“I don’t want fifty more girls,” I replied, twisting back to find her still watching me. “I just want that girl.”

“So, do you have a name, boy-who-can-think-for-himself?” “Does it matter?” I countered, needing to regain some ground I had lost to this powerhouse of a girl. “We both know that you’ll be calling me ‘baby’ by the end of the day.”

“I’m Aoife.” She laughed, holding her hand out to me. “Joey,” I replied, accepting her small hand in mine.

“Is that your way of telling me that you don’t have a boyfriend?” “No, it’s my way of telling you that I will have a boyfriend once you ask me.”

Hearing Paul Rice tell half of the lads in our P.E. class about how Tony’s daughter was so tight he could barely get a finger inside her had caused me to flip the fuck out on him in the changing rooms. I did it for Tony because he wasn’t there to do it himself. At least, that’s what I continued to tell myself.

Of course I fucking liked her. She was the first thing my eyes had landed on when I walked through the entrance of Ballylaggin Community School last September, and the only face I consistently sought out since.

There was something about this boy that I found impossible to ignore, and I knew he felt it, too.

“I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy.” “Yeah, Joey Lynch.” I blew out a shaky breath. “You will.”

And with those words, my mother cut me deeper and more viciously than my father ever had. Ever could. And it was right there in that moment that I knew deep in my bones it was the beginning of the end for me. The switch I had been so desperate not to flip these past few years had finally tripped. And I felt nothing.

And just like that, his head turned in our direction, green eyes meeting mine. And just like every time I felt his eyes on me, my heart, the traitorous bitch, thundered violently in my chest.

“You think I like you, Molloy?” “I know you do,” I breathed, heart galloping recklessly in my chest. Reaching down with his free hand, he tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear and whispered, “You think I want you?” The air left my lungs in an audible whoosh. I was staring into the face of danger. This boy possessed all of the terrible traits that mothers warned their daughters about. Every bad, wrong, and dirty teenage-boy characteristic wrapped up in a perfect, fucked-up package. Physically, he trumped me in every way. Taller. Stronger. Darker. Meaner… Still, I wanted him to come closer.

“What’s it to you?” I demanded. “Nothing,” he hissed, tone laced with venom. “It’s nothing to me, Molloy.” Yes, it was. It was everything to him, just like it was everything to me, but he was too damn stubborn to ever admit it.

“I’m not your friend, Molloy.” Releasing a frustrated growl, I caught ahold of his hand and dragged him into my house. “Well, I’m yours, asshole.”

“Kind of like how I took a wrong fucking turn tonight and ended up in a nightmare,” I drawled sarcastically. “Not quite as grisly as your film, but once my boss gets home and sees me snuggling with his daughter, I’m sure it’ll be a bloodbath.” “Listen here, Joey Lynch.” Sitting upright, she grabbed my chin and turned my face to look straight at her. “I saw you first. You’re my friend, not his. So stop worrying about my dad and start focusing on me.” “Technically, your dad saw me first—” “You’re mine, okay?”

“There. We’re snuggling. Are you happy now?” “I will be,” she cackled, shifting closer to drape her long legs over my lap. “Once you do one more thing for me.” “Oh Jesus, what?” “Tell me that we’re friends.” “Molloy.” “Say it, Joe.” “Why?” “Because it matters.” “To who?” “To me.” Jesus Christ. Shifting uncomfortably, I let my shoulders sag before mumbling, “We’re friends.” “What was that?” “We’re friends.” She laughed. “I was hoping for something more along the lines of ‘Aoife, you’re my dearest, sexiest, most lovable, bestest friend in the whole wide world’.” “Don’t push your luck.” “But I’m your favorite, right?” With a teasing lilt to her voice, she said, “Your favorite friend?” “Yes, fine! Whatever. Christ,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. “You’re my favorite friend, with my favorite legs.” “Well now, see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She laughed, reaching up to pat my cheek. “And just so you know, Joe…” She leaned in close and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You’re my favorite friend, with my favorite everything.” Well, shit.

“He’s not worth it, Joe.” No, but she is.

“I want you to.” I want you, too… “Not interested.”

“I’m not afraid of loving a boy,” I told her honestly. “I’m afraid of losing myself in one.”

“Stay out of trouble out there, okay?” I nodded slowly. “I’ll try my best.” “Make sure you do.” She laughed. “Because I’ve put an awful lot of effort into saving you, six.”

“What the hell is your problem?” “You,” I roared, chest heaving. “You putting your hands on her like that.” “Jesus Christ!” Ricey roared back at me. “When are you going to get it through your head that she’s my girlfriend, asshole, not yours!” “Don’t you ever touch her like that again, do ya hear me?” “Or what?” “Or I’ll put you in a body bag.”

“Well, that minor disagreement has earned you your first suspension of the school year,” she snapped. “Congratulations.” Clapping her hands together mockingly, she asked, “Is there anything you’d like to say for yourself?” “Yeah. We won the game last Friday,” I replied with a shrug. “And I was man of the match.”

“So, you like the color yellow?” “It recently became my favorite.”

“You’re flirting with me.” “You’re flirting with me.” “So?” I scoffed. “I always flirt with you.” He grinned. “Well, maybe I’ve decided to change tactics.” “By flirting?” “Well.” He shrugged. “Being an asshole doesn’t seem to be working in my favor, does it?” “But you’re so good at being an asshole.” “Come closer and I’ll show you how good I can be in other ways.”

“Hey.” Joey held his hands up and smiled darkly. “All I’m doing is being a good friend to my favorite friend.” “She’s not your anything.” “Uh, yes, I am.” “Hear that, Ricey?” Joey replied, with a shit-eating grin etched on his face. “Your girl here is my anything.”

“Listen, Molloy, about us…” he began, and then paused like he was thinking carefully about what words needed to come next. His entire focus was on our joined hands as his thumb gently brushed over my knuckles. “About us?” I croaked out, shivering from the feel of his thumb tracing my skin. “You’re my friend,” he finally settled on. “You’re finally admitting it without needing to be coerced?” Nodding, he forced a small, humorless laugh. “Only took a few years, right?” “Only a couple.” “Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he looked behind him to where the car was waiting and then back to me. “I like you.” “Wow,” I breathed. “Another admission.” “The hardest one yet.”

“I could go a fair bit crazy over you, Molloy.” His lips brushed against my brow as he said, “Stay out of my head now, ya hear?”

“I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy.”

“Who came out on top?” “You, Molloy.” Shaking his head, he stared up at my face and released an amused sigh. “Always you.”

“I like him, okay!” I heard myself choke out. “I like him.” I felt Paul stiffen beside me. “Joey.” Exhaling a ragged breath, I nodded once and then dropped my head in my hands, feeling a flurry of guilt and relief. “I’m really sorry.” “Since when?” Since day one.

“Don’t leave me.” “Joe…” “Please just stay.” He paused to release another slow breath before continuing. “This is the only time it’s ever stopped. Please don’t break it.” “This is the only time what’s ever stopped?” I croaked out, feeling my heart thunder wildly in my chest. “And don’t break what?” “My head,” he mumbled, before adding, “The quiet.” I don’t understand, I wanted to cry, but I held firm and remained calm. “I promise I won’t leave you,”

“You should let me go.” “I know I should.” With my heart hammering violently in my chest, I quickly clenched my eyes shut and willed my heart to just calm down. “But I can’t.”

“Nice moves.” He stared at my hand for a long beat before slowly placing his hand on top of mine. “Nice everything.”

“You okay, Joe?” my sister asked, reaching up to touch my shoulder. “You look sad.” “It’s okay.” I forced a smile. “Everything is going to be okay.” “Yeah?” I nodded. “Yeah, Shan.” Because I won’t ever leave you.

“Because you’re Joseph,” he urged in a raspy voice, covering our joined hands with his other one. “You’re my Joseph.” “Are you feeling alright, Granda?” Frowning, I reached over and touched his clammy forehead. “You’re rambling.” “Loyal, kind, forgiving, fearless, nurturer, protector.” He smiled up at me. “Joseph acted… He took on a role.… He was the father of the lost.” I frowned, confused. “Granda, it’s me. Joey.” “I named you Joseph,” he whispered, swallowing hard now. “Did you know that?” “No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know. How’d that come around?” “Your father wanted to name you Theodor after him,” he replied. “He said you were going to be just like him…” He paused to cough wheezily. “But you were no Teddy. You were Joseph.” He coughed again. “So I bribed him with a tenner for the pub and called you what I wanted you to be called.” He smiled up at me. “My Joseph. My brave, brave boy. Terrible burdens. A cursed cross to carry. But always rising from the ashes. Always getting back up. Always the…protector.”

“Don’t give in to them,” he rasped, holding onto my hand with strength I was surprised he was capable of. “Promise me that you’ll…never…give in to them.” “Give in to who, Granda?” Gasping and wheezing for air, he looked me right in the eyes, green eyes on green and whispered, “The demons your father put in your head.”

“It’ll be okay, won’t it, Joe?” she asked as the school came into sight. “When it’s all over and done with.” She sucked in a sharp breath before whispering, “When we’re grown up and gone from this town, we’ll get our happy ending, won’t we?” “Yeah, Shan,” I replied, hitching my bag up on my shoulder. “You’re going to have an epic happy ending.” “So are you, Joe,” she replied softly. “I just know it.” It was at that exact moment my eyes landed on the leggy blond leaning against the school entrance, with a gray beanie hat covering her ridiculously long hair and a lollipop between her pursed lips. “Yeah, Shan.” I wasn’t convinced about happy endings, but when Molloy locked her eyes on me and smiled, I could believe in the possibility of a happy day.

“So, where do you want to go, Molloy?” Anywhere with you.

“Ah, come on, Joe,” she pushed. “Everyone has a favorite Christmas song.” Not me. I preferred silence. I shrugged. “This one, I suppose.” “Good.” She nodded her approval. “It reminds me of you.” “Wow,” I deadpanned. “Which part?” “All of it,” she teased, tossing a chip at my face. “From now on, this will be our song.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Oh, yeah, because we really need a song.” “Well, it is Christmas Eve, babe,” she joked, and then went right into a piss-poor rendition of the first verse of the song before choking out a laugh. “See, it’s perfect for us.” “There’s only one small problem with your song choice,” I offered dryly. “I’m not your babe, Molloy.”

“Okay, so, it’s clear that you’re not sold on the last song, so how’s this for hitting the nail on the head?” Molloy asked, switching up CDs and pressing track three on her stereo. The Goo Goo Dolls blasted through the speakers. “‘Iris’?” I cocked a brow. “Good song choice, Molloy, but I have to admit that I’m not feeling the festive vibe from it.” “No, asshole, not as a Christmas song,” she explained, cranking up the volume. “As our song.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she reached across the console and covered my lips with her hand. “Shh. Just humor me and listen, okay?” Reluctantly conceding to her demands, I nodded once and kept my eyes locked on hers as the lyrics of the song fucked with my head. “Well?” she finally breathed when the song ended. “It’s perfect, right?” “Yeah, Molloy.” My voice was thick as I wrestled with a million complicated fucking emotions. “It is.”

“Bullshit. Comfortable isn’t as good as it gets,” Joey challenged, narrowing his eyes. “You shouldn’t settle for comfortable, Molloy. You shouldn’t settle for anything less than being in love to the point of madness. The only person that you should be settling for is the person who unsettles you the most. The person who drives you to the brink of suicide because he or she makes you feel so fucking much that you can’t catch your breath or remotely function without them. “And what’s more is you won’t want to. You won’t want to breathe, or feel, or fucking function without them. That’s how you’ll know that it’s a real relationship, Molloy. Only when you’re feeling the most discomfort you’ve ever felt in your entire life should you even consider settling. Because that’s when you’ll know you’re in love, which sounds to me like a hell of a lot nicer way to live than settling for someone you have nothing in common with because it’s comfortable.”

“You’re just afraid to admit it,” I argued, holding a finger up. “Because that means you’ll have to acknowledge the fact that there’s a girl sitting right in front of you who cares about you for no other reason than that she just does! A girl who isn’t depending on you to do anything for her other than be her friend! A girl who sees just how much of an asshole you can be but cares about you regardless, because I do, Joe. I absolutely fucking care, despite your shithead tendencies…hell, maybe even because of them.”

“I care.” Reaching out a hand, he grabbed the front of the hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie—and fisted the fabric as he pulled me back to him, our bodies flush together. “I care. I care. I care,” he repeated, eyes locked on mine as his hand moved up to cup my neck. “Too much.” “See?” Blowing out a ragged breath, I sagged forward, letting my head fall against his chest. “That’s all I wanted to hear.” “I know, Molloy.” Resting his chin on my head, he sighed heavily. “I know.”

“You’re killing my buzz, Molloy.” “Am I?” She beamed up at me. “That’s the best news I’ve had this whole entire shit-fest of a night.”

That’s my girl.

“So, we’re besties?” she asked, holding her pinkie finger up. “Fuck it.” I shrugged and hooked mine around hers. “Why not?”

“If I had a packet of Rolos right now, I’d give you my last one.” “Yeah?” I smiled, indulging her. “Well, if I had a packet of Rolos right now, Molloy, I’d give them all to you.”

His words broke off when I kissed him.

This was our first kiss, and it wasn’t the comet-hitting-earth moment I had anticipated from years of binge-watching unhealthy teen sitcoms. It wasn’t anything like what happened in the movies. It was so much more. This kiss was real, and raw, and gritty, and so full of unspoken emotion that I felt my legs shake from the pressure.

“Oh, I’ve been sold on you for a long time now, Joey Lynch.”