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“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Johnny, who was still standing behind me, replied slowly. “If she wants?”
Joey, who had returned to his perch at the island, nodded his head.
“Good idea, Gibs,” he agreed between forkfuls of egg and sausage. “Wash that wet dog smell off ya before we have to drive home in small confines.”
“I don’t smell,” I muttered.
“You stink,” both Gibsie and Joey said in unison.
“Fuck off the pair of you and leave her alone,” Johnny piped up, sounding aggravated. “She doesn’t smell bad at all.”
“You don’t smell it because you’re immune,” Gibsie retorted. Turning to Joey, he said, “He lets the mutt sleep on his bed every night.”
“Call my dog a mutt again and you’ll be wearing that frying pan,” Johnny warned.
“My sincerest apologies, lad.” Gibsie threw his hands up in retreat. “I never meant to insult your precious pooch.”
Ignoring the snickering and banter, I swung around and stared up at Johnny. “I’m so sorry about this.”
His attention flickered from the boys to me and stayed there. “It’s okay, Shannon.” His voice was impassive, but his eyes were burning with something I was afraid to decipher because I had the distinct feeling that in this moment, my eyes mirrored his. “You can wash up in my bathroom.”
“No, honestly, it’s okay.” My face was burning with embarrassment. “I don’t have to shower in your house.”
“Ah, yeah you fucking do,” Joey called out. “I meant it when I said you’re not getting into Aoife’s car like that. I could run a drag off ya with the state you’re in.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Johnny snapped.
Yanking the kitchen door open, he caught ahold of my hand and practically dragged me down the hallway.
“Come on,” he ordered. “I’ll look after you.”
“Uh, okay,” I strangled out, because in all honesty what hope did I have of saying no when a gigantic rugby player was dragging me through his house?
“For the record,” Johnny called over his shoulder as he tugged me up the staircase, turning right when we reached the upstairs landing. “I don’t think you smell that bad.”
“Um, thank you?” I strangled out, unsure of the appropriate response to a boy telling you that you don’t smell that bad, and too out of breath to come up with anything better.
He was moving fast, my hand still wrapped in his, and I had to run to keep up with his long strides. He didn’t stop moving until we were at the end of the landing and standing outside a closed door.
I noted that we had passed at least half a dozen other doors on this section of the landing, but I was too light-headed from trying to keep up with him to really take stock of my surroundings.
Releasing my hand, Johnny pushed the door inward and stepped inside, gesturing for me to follow him.
I did—and it was like stepping into a bedroom version of the Hall of Fame.
The room was huge, the walls were blue, and the enormous four-poster bed took center stage. There was an entertainment center opposite the bed that resembled a miniature cinema, but none of those details were what stuck out in my mind. The rows upon rows of trophies and medals adorning the walls were what had my immediate attention. Framed jerseys littered the walls, along with several peculiar-looking caps and posters of the Irish rugby team.
There was a huge oak desk settled in the space at the far wall between two windows. On top of the desk were an expensive-looking laptop and heaps of schoolbooks and exam papers. Above it hung a huge corkboard, mounted to the wall. Stuck to the board were countless photographs—of different celebrity athletes. All of whom Johnny was standing beside in the pictures.
“So,” Johnny said with a shrug. “This is my room.”
He walked over to his bed and kicked several items of clothes under it.
“It’s a nice room,” I replied, chewing on my lip as I glanced around.
In typical teenage boy fashion, it was a complete mess with the mandatory posters of seminaked girls with humongous breasts adorning the walls. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and PlayStation controllers and games littered the floor by the TV beside a couple of leather beanbags.
“You can shower in here,” Johnny said then. Shaking his head, he burst into action, moving for a door in the left corner of his room near his bed.
