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Snatching the paper out of my mother’s hands, I stared down at the girl who’d been driving me crazy for the best part of two months.
Jesus, she looked gorgeous, all wide-eyed and smiling as I held her to my side. Her brown hair was loose and blowing in the breeze. The top of her head grazed my armpit, that’s how tiny she was.
And then my heart skipped in my chest when I read the caption.
Johnny Kavanagh, 17, pictured with school friend Shannon Lynch as they celebrated Tommen College’s win over Kilbeg in the final of the School Boy Shield last Friday. Kavanagh captained his school to their fifth win in a row of the Shield, clocking up another piece of silverware in his impressive career and putting to bed any rumors of existing injuries. The pretty schoolgirl was fresh-faced and beaming for the cameras as she congratulated Kavanagh on another win. When asked for a comment on the status of their relationship, Kavanagh politely declined—although they say a picture speaks a thousand words…
“She’s a stunner of a girl, Johnny,” Mam mused, distracting me. “You look absolutely adorable together.”
“It’s not like that, Ma,” I muttered, knowing full well what she was hinting at. “She’s just a friend.”
“I’ve never seen you in the papers with friends that look like this one before,” Mam quipped. “It’s a gorgeous picture, love. The editor must have thought so, too, because they gave you a whole page.”
“I captained our school to the final last week,” I bit out, unable to look at her because my entire focus was on the picture. “We won. It’s a big deal. That’s why they gave me a full page.”
“I’m delighted for you, love,” Mam chimed happily. “Now, what’s her name?”
“Shannon.”
“And?”
“And that’s her name,” I deadpanned.
“Am I going to get anything else?”
“What else do you want?” I snapped. “I’ve already told you that she’s just a friend.”
“She’s a friend,” Mam snickered, tone laced with sarcasm. “Sure she is—and I’m the Virgin Mary.”
“Don’t talk about your virginity to me,” I groaned.
“Why?” Mam replied. “Would you rather I talk about yours?”
No.
No.
Sweet Jesus, no!
“I’m going to bed.” I tucked the paper under my arm before trudging out of the room—and not bastard limping.
“Give me my paper,” Mam called after me, laughing. “I want to frame that picture.”
“No, you’re bleeding not,” I shot back with a huff.
When I reached my bedroom, I flipped the lock on the door and dropped the paper on my bed before heading straight to my en suite bathroom.
Kicking off my clothes, I flicked on the shower and stepped inside.
Carefully lowering myself to the floor, I hooked my arms around my knees and bent my head. I didn’t have the energy to stand.
Mam was right.
I wasn’t match fit.
Sitting beneath the flow of scalding water, I closed my eyes as a shudder rolled through me. Using one hand, I pushed my hair back from my face and exhaled a bitter sigh as every fear and concern about my future traveled to the fore point of my mind.
My life was going to hell. My body was falling apart. My dreams were slipping out the window. I had a whole heap of problems to worry about.
