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“Because I want to talk to him,” Joey replied impatiently.
I peeked up at Johnny, who was looking at me expectantly.
Dropping my gaze, I whispered, “Why do you want to talk to him?”
“Because I want to talk to the fucker offering to take my baby sister home in his car, that’s why.”
Letting out an impatient sigh, Johnny cleared his throat and held his hand out.
I stared at his hand and blinked in confusion.
“Give me your phone,” he instructed calmly.
“My phone?”
“Yes.” Johnny nodded. “Your phone.”
When I made no move to hand it over, Johnny swiped it out of my hand and pressed it to his ear.
“Hey, this is Johnny,” he said down the line, holding my shitty phone to his ear. “Yeah, I know your sister—” He paused before saying, “Kavanagh—yeah, that’s me.” Another pause followed before he nodded. “Thanks. It was a strong performance all round.”
Mortified, I reached up and tried to grab my phone, but he was too tall.
Holding a hand out between us to keep me at bay, Johnny continued to talk—to my brother.
“Probably,” he said into the phone. “Yeah, it’s a risky move. No, tickets don’t go on sale for the summer tour until May… Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. Home games only, though… Cool.”
What? Seriously, what?
Confused didn’t begin to explain how I was feeling in this moment.
“I’m well aware,” Johnny said in a dry tone, obviously responding to something Joey was saying. “No, I don’t… We’re, uh, yeah, we’re friends…obviously… A full license…yes…” His gaze flickered to my face. “Seventeen… I know that… Yeah, I get it… I know the difference… I won’t,” Johnny said before pressing END on the call and holding my phone out for me.
“What just happened?” I balked, staring down at the black screen of my phone. “What did he say to you?”
Johnny shrugged, but didn’t answer my question. Instead, he swooped down and grabbed my schoolbag.
“Come on.” Throwing my bag over his shoulder, he pressed a hand to my back and nudged me forward. “Big brother gave me permission to take you home.”
“What about your schoolbag?” I blurted out, noting he was only carrying mine.
“It’s in the car,” he replied, continuing to shepherd me toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Like a lamb to the slaughter, I went with him, knowing this was a terrible idea, but unable to stop my feet from moving. There was only a handful of students in the corridors, but I swear I felt every one of their stares as I walked toward the front door with Johnny.
Johnny yanked the glass door open and waited for me to step out before following me.
I had no idea what to do—or say for that matter. I was so far out of my comfort zone, I could barely function. I felt a little light-headed if I was being honest.
We walked side by side in silence through the courtyard and down the avenue toward the student car park. Even though today was March first, and the second month of spring in Ireland, it was dark outside, not to mention freezing cold. I wasn’t a fan of being outside in the dark, and I found myself sticking close to him. Concussion-giver or not, some part of my brain told me that I was safe with this boy.
That was probably the concussed part talking.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Johnny asked, breaking the silence when we entered the parking area.
“What?” I turned my face to look at him. “No, no, I’m okay.”
“You’re sure?” He was staring straight ahead, so I did the same, feeling too exposed around him. “He didn’t put his hands on you?”
