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“Dad.” “Daughter.” “Father!” “Fruit of my loins.” “Fine,”
“Well, are you going to walk me home or not?” For fuck’s sake…
“How about to be nice?” “I’m not nice.” “Yes, you are.” “No, I’m not.” “Say something nice to me.” “Molloy.” “Come on,” she demanded. “Do it. I dare you.”
“You have nice legs,” I offered flatly. “There, happy now?”
“You don’t.” “I don’t want?” “Talk.” “That’s because I’m not a prick. I’m an asshole, remember?”
again.”
Confusion filled her eyes. “Don’t do what?” “Touch me.” “Why not?” “Because.” “Because?” “Because I don’t like you.” “Liar.” “How about because I don’t know where those hands have been.” Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” Dick move. Take it back.
“For all I know, you could’ve been pulling on your saint of a boyfriend with those hands.” “You did not just say that to me.”
“You’re such a brat,” I muttered, shaking my head as I
repressed the urge to shiver from the wonderful fucking feeling of having her warm skin on mine. “And you’re such a tool,” she came right back with, unwilling to give an inch. “Now, are you going to walk me inside, or do I have to tell my dad that you abandoned me in the dark?”
“I suppose I’m closest to Shannon.” “Your sister?”
“You have nice eyes.” “Nice eyes.” “Uh-huh.”
“Because it’s nice to be nice, Joey.” “You are a really weird fucking girl,” he grumbled, looking thrown off-kilter, before begrudgingly adding, “With nice legs.”
“Oh my god.” Awareness crashed down on me. “You set him straight, didn’t you?” I whispered, feeling my heart rate spike, as I thought back to their fight the other day. “That’s why you hit him, isn’t it?” “Someone had to.”
Physically, he trumped me in every way. Taller. Stronger. Darker. Meaner… Still, I wanted him to come closer.
I’m so fucking lucky.
“Grab your shit,” he ordered. “You can shower at home. We can finish this conversation in the car.” So you can get me alone? Yeah, fucking right.
“Molloy,” I acknowledged with a small nod. “Nice game.” “Nice legs.” “Want to be a gent and walk these nice legs home?” “Why?” With my hand on the changing room door, I turned back to glare at her. “Is he not coming back for you?” Red-faced, she shook her head. Fury erupted inside of me. “He just left you here?” She nodded. “He’s an asshole.” Another embarrassed nod.
“You asshole.” “Me?” “Yes, you!” “How am I the asshole?” “Because you hurt my feelings.” “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did, Joey!” “Fine,” he scoffed. “I’m an asshole. Now let’s go.” I shook my head. “Molloy.” “I am not a mannequin!” “Fine.” Joey shook his head. “I take it back. You’re not a mannequin.” “That was really mean.” He stared at me for a long time before finally blowing out a breath. “Yeah, I know.” “Apologize.” “For what?” “For calling me a mannequin.” “I just said you’re not a mannequin.” “That wasn’t an apology.” “Yeah, it was.” I gaped at him. “No, it wasn’t, Joey.” “How was that not an apology?” “Because it didn’t contain the word ‘sorry,’ asshole.”
“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?”
“Snuggle me.” “No.” “Do it.” “It’s not happening, Molloy.” “Snuggle me, Joey.” “I said no.” “Snuggle me or I’ll scream.” “For fuck’s sake, fine,” I snapped, lifting my arm up for her to nestle into my side. “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?”
let my shoulders sag before mumbling, “We’re friends.” “What was that?” “We’re friends.”
“Pretty fucking annoying,” I muttered under my breath. “That’s ’cause it’s true,” Ollie said with a lopsided grin. “Whoa, she’s really, really pretty, Joe.”
the small swell of her stomach, and I wanted to die. “We’re having another baby, Joey.” No. “I’m due in November.” No. “The doctors reckon it’s another boy.” Please God, fucking no.
I had a nice body, and I wasn’t about to convince myself that I hadn’t, especially when the rest of the world was more than willing to chip away at a teenager’s self-esteem.
“It beats the view of your father’s ass crack, that’s for sure.”
“You’re the lamb.” “What’s that, Joey, lad?” my father called out from where he was kneeling in the bathroom, with his back to the landing. “Nothing, Tony,” Joey called back, not moving one muscle as he turned his attention back to me. “You’re the sweet, innocent lamb that’s hell-bent on playing with fire,” he said, walking me backwards until my legs hit my bed. “So, you might want to stop hunting me, Molloy.” His hands moved to my hips, and he literally tossed me down on the mattress. “Because if you don’t?” With my wrists pinned to the mattress above my head, he stepped between my legs and
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“I’ve got it.” Breathless and feeling faint, I felt myself nodding. “Friend.” “Good girl.” I narrowed my eyes. “You dick.” He grinned victoriously down at me before releasing me and walking out of my room to rejoin my father in the bathroom. On shaky legs, I hurried toward my bedroom door and slammed it shut before blowing out a ragged breath. “Holy shit.” Did that just happen?
“Exactly,” I cooed. “A lamb could never give you such good ear scratches. That boy is full of crap.” And sexy as hell.
Her easygoing, playful nature meant that she didn’t take a lot of his jibes to heart, but I did. I fucking took them to heart for her. Watching her tolerate his less-than-stellar treatment of her irked the hell out of me. It evoked feelings in my chest that had no business being there in the first place. “Lynch!”
Sitting on top of our team’s dugout, inside the fencing where she had no business being, Molloy winked down at me. “Nice moves.” “Nice legs,” I replied, feeling much more sated now than ten minutes ago. She beamed down at me from her perch, with her long legs dangling off the edge of the steel roof. “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.”
“Don’t you ever touch her like that again, do ya hear me?” “Or what?” “Or I’ll put you in a body bag.” “Oh, fuck off back to the tramp whose legs you came out of, you filthy scumbag.” “Joey, no!” Molloy screamed, hurrying to step in between us, but it was too late. Because I had well and truly taken leave of my senses.
“Yeah, he’s just your fuckable friend who can’t play nice with your equally fuckable boyfriend,” she corrected with a chuckle. “All the while, your most fuckable friend of all—moi—had to spend the last weekend of summer listening to the sound of her mother’s headboard crashing against the bedroom wall because you’re too busy chasing boys to hang out with your bestie.” I winced. “Sorry.” “Whatever, bitch.” She rolled her eyes again. “Just take me with you next time.
“Was it hot? It was hot, wasn’t it? Did they rip each other’s jerseys off? Was there skin on show? Did you see abs? Tell me.” “You’re a perverted freak.” “And you’re a greedy bitch keeping them both for yourself.”
“Sexy, yes, but downright terrifying.”
Proving once again that she was unlike any other girl in our year, who would blush and look away under scrutiny, Molloy arched a brow right back at me and mouthed fuckup. I winked. Nice legs. Grinning, she scratched her nose with her middle finger. Asshole.
“Tell me about it, lad,” Alec agreed. “I swear I’ve had dreams about her legs.” “The length of them.” “And that skirt.”
“If they look as good on you as that yellow thong you’re wearing, then I’m going to have to agree,” he replied, gesturing to the perfect view up my skirt that I had unintentionally given him. “Close your eyes.” “Close your legs.” “No.” Heat flamed inside of me. “I’m not embarrassed.” “Neither am I.” “You’re looking up my skirt.”
“You’re flashing your pussy in my face.” “Oh my god,” I choked out. “You did not just say that.”
“So, you like the color yellow?” “It recently became my favorite.” “Is that so?” “That’s so, Molloy.” “My favorite color is yellow, too.” “It’s a good color on you.” “I look even better when I take it off.”
“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?”
“Go and buy your shoes, princess.”
music. “Cop on, Aoife,” an angry voice growled in my ear as a big body pressed up against me from behind and a pair of big hands clamped down on my hips. “Everyone is looking at you.”
“Molloy,” he acknowledged in his usual deep timbre. “Causing trouble again?” “Always.” Grinning wolfishly, I hooked an arm around his neck for balance, feeling my pulse skyrocket at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” “Looking out for you, apparently,” Joey muttered, keeping one strong arm hooked around me. “She’s mine, dickhead, back off,” Paul growled, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll look after her.” Joey cocked a brow. “Looks like you were doing a real stellar job at that.” “She’s drunk. She’s a handful when she’s like this.”
“This is over, Paul. Congratulations, you’re a free agent. We’re done.”
“Third difference,” he whispered, leaning so close that I could feel his alcohol-scented breath on my face. “I’m not pressuring you to spread your legs for me.” Rearing back, he made a point of glancing between us. “You did that all by yourself.”
“Stay out of my head now, ya hear?” “Don’t, Joey,” I called after him, voice thick with reckless emotion, watching his back as he walked away from me. “Don’t go with them.”
Throw in a sexy angel costume and a belly full of booze, and the girl was a recipe for disaster.
“Yeah, sure.” He poked my shoulder. “My bad behavior?” Grinning like a dope, something that usually happened when he came back from lunch with the stoners, he leaned in close and nudged my shoulder with his. “Come on, Molloy, don’t hold out on a friend.”
