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“See, I know you believe that,” I replied, my tone thick with emotion. “But every time you snort a line or pop a pill, you’re playing Russian roulette with your life and my heart.”
57
Hurricane Molloy
JOEY
The anger emanating from the girl in the driver’s seat assured me that not only had I been given permanent residency in her doghouse but I’d earned the title of king of fuckups.
By the time we reached school on Thursday morning, the silent tension building up between us was unbearable.
Both unwilling to budge an inch, I let her sit in her anger, while she let me stew in my guilt.
After her fourth piss-poor attempt at reversing into a narrow parking space, and this time almost taking the bumper off a neighboring car, Molloy released a furious growl. She jacked the handbrake, put the gearstick in neutral, and climbed out, leaving the car in the middle of the line of traffic.
Wordlessly, I climbed out and rounded the driver’s side, while Molloy folded her arms across her chest, tapped her foot expectantly, and gave me a stormy-eyed glare.
Reversing the car into her intended parking spot, I killed the engine, climbed back out, and rounded the boot.
Yanking it open, I grabbed both of our bags and tossed them over my shoulders, before reaching for my hurley and helmet.
Slamming the boot shut, I locked the car back up and tossed her the keys.
Catching them midair, she pocketed them, and then, with her nose cocked in the air, she walked over and yanked her bag off my shoulder.
Fine.
Suit yourself.
Arching a brow, I watched as Molloy slid her bag onto her shoulder and strutted off in the direction of the main entrance, keeping at least ten feet between us and giving me a glorious view of her peachy ass, as her hips swayed with temper.
“Lynchy?” I heard Rambo call out, dragging my attention from my girlfriend’s fantastic rear end.
I turned to see him waving me over to the side of the P.E. hall, with smoke drifting up from beneath the sleeve of his school jumper.
“You coming, lad?”
Offering him a clipped nod, I veered off path, feet moving in the direction of my buddy, when a hand wrapped around mine and pulled me to a stop.
I swung back to find Molloy standing there, with my hand in both of hers, as she glared up at me and shook her head.
Still refusing to speak to me but unwilling to walk away, she stood there, glowering up at me, giving me an ultimatum with her eyes.
Do it, she mentally dared me, see what happens.
Beyond fucking irritated, I glared down at her, equally unwilling to be the first one to give in and speak.
Releasing my hand, she gave me one final hard look before backing up a few steps, and then, with that sexy fucking nose cocked in the air, she turned on her heel and walked off.
Fine.
Blowing out a frustrated growl, I turned on my heel and walked toward the P.E. hall but only managed to make it about five steps before swinging back around.
Goddammit to hell!
I could hear Rambo and the lads cracking up with laughter and making the mandatory whipped sound as I trailed after my girlfriend like a fucking puppy.
Jesus Christ.
