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“Shannon, it’s okay—”
“Oh my god! What did I do?”
“Shannon,” Johnny coaxed, tone firmer now. “Stop. It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay,” I strangled out as I scrambled off the bed and backed up, hitting his chest of drawers in the process. “I just—oh god!”
Staggering backwards, I shook my head and held a hand out to warn him off when he took a step toward me. “I’m really sorry.”
“Shannon, it’s okay,” Johnny said as he held his hands up. “Just stop moving around for a second and talk to me, will ya?”
I didn’t stop moving. And I didn’t stop to talk. Because I couldn’t. I was in full-force panic mode, and for once, my flight instinct had kicked in.
“I need to go,” I announced, mortified.
“No, you don’t,” he replied calmly. “We can talk about this.”
“No!” Shaking my head, I slipped around Johnny and snatched my clothes off the bed. “I need to leave,” I added before bolting into the bathroom and locking myself inside.
“Shannon, come on,” Johnny called out, knocking on the door. “Open the door.”
Speechless, I staggered over to the toilet, pushed the lid down, and collapsed on top.
“Oh god,” I breathed, as I dropped my head in my hands.
What the hell did I just do?
Not only did I flash Johnny Kavanagh, but I went one further and kissed him.
My first kiss.
The first time I ever put my lips on a boy. And he didn’t reciprocate.
Oh my god…
What the hell was I thinking? Why was I feeling like my heart was shattering into a million pieces? And most importantly, how was I going to get out of this bathroom?
Because there was no way I could face Johnny now. In fact, I was fairly sure I could never face him again.
47Crying Girls and Burning Hearts
JOHNNY
Someone put their hands on her.
Those kinds of marks didn’t happen in a bleeding ruck, never mind during a soccer game in P.E.
It was ridiculous, and she was ridiculous for feeding me that line. What did she think I was, some thick eejit who couldn’t tell the difference between an accidental bruise and foul play?
I played rugby. I’d spent my whole life knocking up injuries and knocking lads out. I knew the goddamn difference between accidental damage and intentional harm.
Someone squeezed her throat, and they did it so hard they left fucking fingerprints on her.
If she was being bullied at Tommen, then I was going to find out. If it was McGarry, then I was going to end up in a cell. If it was those fuckers from BCS, then they might as well lock me in a straitjacket.
I was about ten seconds away from going CSI on the situation, but then her big blue eyes filled up with tears and I was thrown another curveball.
I had no clue how to handle girl tears. And girl tears coming from that particular girl affected me something fierce.
