Taming 7 (Boys of Tommen, #5)

by Chloe Walsh

“I don’t remember your name being on my birth certificate.”

The sky was blue outside. The birds were out. The sun was shining. It was another blissful morning. And I wanted to scream.

Patrick Feely, for example. He was quiet and closed off, but that’s because you didn’t know Patrick until you knew Patrick. He didn’t suffer fools. He didn’t bend or break or submit to peer pressure. He wasn’t trying to fit in with anyone. If that made him uncool to our peers, it meant little to nothing to him. He had his secrets and his troubles, like the rest of us, but they were unspoken. In fact, I had known him since early childhood and still felt very closed off from him at times.

Hugh and Patrick might resemble Josh Hartnett and Ryan Phillippe with

Patrick Feely’s adorable smile,

Because I had a feeling that in order to thrive in the future, a person had to put to bed their past.

“What’s that?” I asked when the folded-up piece of paper hanging out from the edge of his bed caught my eye. “Gerard Gibson.” I feigned hurt. “Are you hiding love letters from other girls under your mattress?” “No love letters,” he replied with a chuckle, quickly shoving the note back underneath. “I promise.”

“You’re so beautiful,” I admitted, because, one, I had a problem keeping my mouth shut, and second, it was the truth. I’d never seen anything like her. “I swear you shine even in the darkness.”

He was all dark hair, shy smiles, sun-kissed skin, and soulful blue eyes. The perfect recipe for teenage heartbreak.

Tadhg grinned back at me. “A lot better for seeing you, blondie.”

“Oh great,” Tadhg deadpanned “Fatty’s here.”

“That’s because you don’t have a clue what to do with your own bollocks.” “That’s not what your mother says.”

“Tell you what, Joe, I’d rather be a Lynch than a bitch any day.”

Leaning against an expensive-looking parked Mercedes, Joey took another drag of his cigarette, observing my meltdown unfolding around him like a caged lion would; slightly bored and momentarily contained, but absolutely lethal if provoked.

“And all of your sixteen other personalities.” “Aw, shucks.” I grinned back at him. “Is this your way of telling me you love me, Cap?” “Whatever floats your boat, Gibs.”

It’s hard enough to be a girl in this world without turning on each other.

Ignoring Johnny’s words of warning, Joey looked to me and repeated, “Who are we fighting, Gussie?”

Once the button clicked up, Joey opened the driver’s door, cigarette balancing between his lips, and reached inside.

Throwing shapes like I was fucking the air around me, I flexed my hips, shook my tits, and dry-humped her desk chair like my life depended on it. In a weird way, it did, because this girl was my entire world, and

“Claire’s an amazing teacher.” I narrowed my eyes at the cuckoo with his arm around my love bird. “Very hands on.”

I was a dinger for scents, and I could pick out his Hugo Boss cologne a mile off.

“Marvelous,” he replied sarcastically. “I’m delighted for you.”

“The matter of custody.” Rolling up the sleeves of his school shirt, Gerard glanced around my room before finally settling his heated gaze on me. “You can’t keep my kids from me. I have rights.”

“Thanks, Mammy K.” Forcing out a wheezy cough for extra effect, I grinned up at my best friend while his mother fussed over me. “It always gets worse in bad weather.”

“True,” Johnny mused. “Because breaking up with Claire would mean that you actually asked her out in the first place.” Smirking, he added, “And we all know you’re too pussy for that, lad.”

and I’ve always supported women’s rights to choose for themselves.

“I’ve developed a hernia from the weight it’s taking me to give a fuck!”

Kissing him felt like I had suddenly remembered the answer to a question that had been tormenting me for hours. You know the feeling of frustration when something is on the tip of your tongue forever and you finally figure it out and relief floors you? Well, that’s how I was feeling in this moment.

“I would definitely like to join you.” “Excellent decision.” “Yes, I think so.” “I think so, too.”

“It would be rude not to walk you to your room.”

the Joker – I mean Joey – warned when he marched into the kitchen, looking like the sexiest baddie I’d ever seen.

Several hours later, as I threw shapes around the Biggs’ jam-packed kitchen to the Ghostbusters anthem, I concluded that Johnny might be onto something when he labeled me a messy drunk.

Hugh and Patrick were drinking, Pierce and Lizzie were fighting, Katie and Aoife were dancing, Johnny and Shannon were sucking face, and Joey was out front trying to sober Gerard up, which left me in prime position for the title hostess with the mostest.

Harley Quinn had the Joker pinned to the side of my brother’s parked car to stop him from fighting, while Juliet wept into her hands, and Romeo tried to console her. On the other side of my brother’s car, Gomez Addams was dipping Vivian Ward, having valiantly shielded her from a rogue beer bottle, while Edward Lewis straddled a dark-cloaked stranger on the front lawn. To top it all off, Morticia Addams had decided this was her ample opportunity to throttle Danny Zuko, while Uncle Fester looked on gormlessly.

“Get the fuck off her,” Gerard roared, momentarily calling a truce with his long-time nemesis, as he rushed to her aid.

“I could be contagious.”

“You’re good with words,” I offered. “When you use them.” “I use them,” he replied. “Not everyone listens.”

“Get a room,” to the ridiculously attractive couple eating the faces off each other in the stairwell on my way.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “It’s your subconscious’s way of alerting your body to danger, even when you might not be in any.” “Okay.” I nodded slowly, soaking in every word he was telling me. “Good to know.” “Can I give you my phone number?” I stared blankly at him. “Lad, I’m flattered, but I like pussy.” Darren smirked. “Just take my number,” he said, retrieving a business card from his coat pocket. “Call that number when you’re ready.” “Wait!” I called after him, but he was already walking away. “When I’m ready for what?” He didn’t respond.

“I want to be your boyfriend and I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“I’m seventeen now,” I bit out. “But I was seven when you raped me.” “Don’t—” “I was seven years old when you first raped me!” I said louder, refusing to be silenced a second longer by my fear of this man. “I was eleven years old when you finally stopped!” Blowing out a ragged breath, I glared at the monster standing in front of me with tears pouring down my cheeks, and strangled out, “You took four years of my childhood from me, and I’ve been living in a prison in my mind every damn day of my life since. So, if you don’t want to risk spending the next seventeen years of your life behind bars, you’ll get on a plane and never come back!”

Most people erected walls around their hearts to protect themselves, and some of those people, like Joey and Lizzie, were mighty talented at building said walls.

And then she kissed me right there in the middle of the field, with the whole school watching. Holy fuck did she kiss me.

Think Andie Anderson’s dress in How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days kind of yellow.”

“So, which one of you brainboxes decided it was a good idea to take off your clothes and fiddle around in the treehouse in the month of November?”

I pointed at Claire as inconspicuously as I could at the same time that she not so secretly pointed at me. My mouth fell open. “It was your idea.” “No.” Claire eyeballed me. “The treehouse was your idea.”

“Oh, yes.” I nodded solemnly. “We’re both very sorry and we’ll never do it again.” “Ever,” Claire chimed in, joining me in “nodding-dog” mode. “We promise.”

Keeping her tucked up against his chest, Hugh continued to speak to his friends, while he doled out instructions and caught a set of flying car keys midair.

Shielding her face from the view of dozens of our peers when he opened the door to the main hallway, Hugh walked Lizzie in one direction,

“Time can’t heal when it doesn’t pass by.”