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Oh, fuck.
She’s going to kill you, Shannon. Bella Wilkinson is going to kill you.
If your father doesn’t get there first…
Mortified, I made a dive for the seat, trying to squeeze past Johnny’s overly long legs, at the same time he stretched over to deposit another bag.
The end result was not pretty.
It involved a lot of flailing, tangled-up limbs, one of my knees connecting full force with his nose, and a chorus of oooohs and oh shits from the lads around us.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Johnny hissed. Leaning back against the headrest, he cupped his face and growled. “Fucking hell, Shannon!”
I slapped a hand over my mouth, eyes wide. “I am so sorry!”
“Go on, Johnny boy!” one of the lads called out from the back row. “Get up on that!”
“Fuck off, Luke,” Johnny snapped. He touched his nose twice, checking for blood, and when he was satisfied there wasn’t any, he let out what sounded like an aggravated growl.
“I really didn’t mean to do that,” I choked out, mortified, as I desperately tried and failed to disentangle myself from between his thighs.
It wasn’t an easy feat with my schoolbag on my back. I had a whole day’s worth of books in my bag, having been unable to go to my locker before being thrust onto this bus, and the weight strapped to my back was throwing me off-balance. Holding onto the back of Johnny’s headrest, I raised one leg and attempted to climb over his leg, but my foot must have traveled dangerously close to his area because Johnny snaked out a hand and grabbed my ankle, holding my foot in place, causing my skirt to ride up.
“Watch it!” he barked as his eyes flashed with worry. “Stop moving.”
I didn’t blame him for looking worried. I was a liability.
Shaking his head, Johnny expelled a heavy breath, released my ankle, and then stood to his feet. It was a terrible move that resulted in our bodies being crushed together without an inch of space to spare.
“I would have moved, you know,” Johnny explained, eyes locked on me. We were in such close quarters that I could smell his cologne. “If you’d given me a half a chance.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a puff of air. It was impossible to form words when I was completely wedged between his chest and the seat in front, my stupid schoolbag making it impossible for me to escape.
“Are they going to ride or what?” someone called out.
“Sure fucking looks like it,” another snickered.
“What the hell is going on back there?” Mr. Mulcahy roared at the top of his lungs. “Kavanagh! Lynch! Pack the canoodling in and take your seats!”
Everyone on the bus erupted in whistles and laughter.
Meanwhile, I died inside.
“We’re fucking trying!” Johnny roared back. “Give us a bleeding minute, will ya?”
“How difficult is it to sit in a damn seat, Kavanagh?” the teacher demanded.
“A great deal, apparently,” Johnny muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to me.
“Go left on three,” he instructed. “One, two—”
My eyes widened. “My left or your left?”
“Jaysus.” Muttering a string of curses under his breath, Johnny grumbled, “Never mind, just come here,” and then proceeded to grab my waist, pull my body closer to his—however that was even possible—and then turn us sideways.
He released my waist and I practically flopped into the window seat, face flaming, body trembling. As soon as we were both sitting down, the bus began to move beneath our feet.
“Thanks,” I croaked out, as I pressed into my seat, shoulders slumping.
