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“I might not be the biggest dog in the fight,” I begrudgingly conceded, “but I always have the sharpest teeth.”
“You saw me back there,” she stated evenly, green eyes snaring me. “I did.” “You kept walking.” I nodded like a fool. “I did.” “Don’t do that again.” Fuck me. “I won’t.”
She looked me over once more before nodding in approval. “You’re beautiful.” Well, shit. “Likewise.” “Hmm.” Her lips tipped up. “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.” She licked her lips to bury her smile. “Is that so?” I stepped closer. “You tell me, blondie.”
“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.” “Jesus.” My heart rate sped up.
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.
“Nice game.”
“Nice legs.” “Want to be a gent and walk these nice legs home?”
She reminded me of one of those beautiful, exotic caged birds you’d see in a backstreet pet shop: out of place and itching for freedom.
