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“Oh my god,” she gasped. “That’s his pub.”
“What?” My eyes widened. “His family owns it?”
It wouldn’t surprise me.
“No, no,” Claire hurried to say. “They don’t own it, but it’s like his pub. His spot. His…his…HQ.”
“What does that even mean?”
“That’s where they all go,” Claire said. “All the boys from the team. Biddies is their hangout.”
“Oh,” I breathed, flustered. “Okay.”
“So,” she mused. “What did you do at the pub?”
“He bought me dinner,” I confessed.
“Wait—why did he take you to Biddies if you were sick?”
I shrugged. “He drove me home, but when we got to my house, he asked me to go for a drive with him.” Frowning, I added, “And he took me to the cinema after Biddies.”
“Shut the front door,” she squeaked.
“And on my birthday, I ended up going to his house.”
“What?” Claire actually screamed. “His house?”
“It was Joey’s fault. But I was there…and I had a shower…and then he cooked for me…and I fell asleep on his—” I quickly snapped my mouth shut when the door flew open and Shelley and Helen came bursting into the room.
Claire raised her brows at me but didn’t say anything else. One look at her face, though, and it was clear that this conversation was far from over for her.
I took that as my opportunity to scoop up my uniform off the bench and slip into one of the shower stalls to get changed. I wasn’t a prude or anything like that, but I was seriously lacking in comparison to these girls. Saving myself some unnecessary humiliation, I always changed in one of the stalls with a curtain drawn around my A cups.
When I had my uniform back on, and my frazzled nerves under control, I returned to the girls just in time to hear Shelly and Helen’s latest drama.
Shelly was a tall brunette with the kind of curves I could only hope to grow into one day. Helen was the shorter, slightly less curvy, red-haired version of Shelly. They were massive gossipers and spent their days welded to each other’s sides, whispering and snickering, but I’d met far worse than them. I actually sort of liked them both in a “they’re completely harmless if you don’t tell them your business” kind of way.
“God, he’s such a ride!” Shelly continued to squeal.
She was standing in her bra and knickers, completely at ease with her body, and making animated hand gestures to her BFF.
“I swear to god, Hells, I would climb that boy like a drainpipe.” She flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder and feign-swooned. “He’d be amazing at it, too.”
“Don’t lie, Shell,” Helen shot back with a snicker. “If he looked at you long enough, you’d pass out from shock.”
“I might,” Shelly agreed with a laugh. “But then he could revive me.” Waggling her finely shaped brows, she added, “With his tongue.”
“Who are we talking about, girls?” Claire interjected with a friendly smile. She was sitting on the bench, buttoning her school shirt back up. “Anyone interesting?”
“Who do you think?” Shelly teased with a huge smile. “Mr. Sex on Legs himself.”
“Did you see him watching us?” Helen added excitedly, biting down on her bottom lip. “He was. I saw him. He was totally watching us when we were on the court.”
“I wish.” Shelly sigh-swooned. “God, why can’t the lads in our year look like him?”
“I know,” Helen agreed dreamily. “That boy is one hundred percent homegrown Cork sexiness.”
“He’s not homegrown,” I heard myself interject. “He’s from Dublin.”
