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“Yeah.” Johnny nodded, eyes flashing with relief. “With being the size I am, it’s just easier.”
“Do you sit on your own in your classes, too?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I prefer it that way.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m broad,” he replied. “And those desks are narrow as fuck.”
He was broad. He was huge. And beautiful.
Johnny glanced sideways at me, smirking, and said, “I’d sit with you, though.”
My heart leaped in my chest. “You would?”
He grinned. “You’re so tiny you don’t count.”
I huffed out a breath. “I still count.”
“You know what I mean.” he laughed quietly. “There’s no fighting for leg room.” He looked down at my feet, smile still firmly attached, and teased, “Are your feet even touching the floor?”
“Of course,” I confirmed, then quickly felt for the ground with my toes to see if I was right. “See?” I tossed back, happy to discover that I was, in fact, right. Granted, my toes barely touched the floor, but there was definite tiptoe contact happening. “Ha-ha.”
“Ha-ha?” Johnny threw his head back and laughed. “Are you four years old?”
“Says the guy ribbing me over my height,” I replied, giving him my best indignant glare.
“I’m only stating facts,” he replied innocently. An impish grin spread across his face before he added, “I was half expecting you to bring a booster seat on the bus.”
Against my better judgment, I cracked a smile at his remark. There was something about his tone that assured me this wasn’t vindictive behavior. Johnny was being playful. It was strange, unexpected, and surprisingly welcome.
“I decided to leave it at home,” I impressed myself by retorting. “Thank god I did, because there’s barely enough room in here with your ego.”
“Shannon Lynch has banter.” Johnny leaned back, both sounding and looking reluctantly impressed. “Who’d have guessed?”
“Well, obviously not you.” I smiled sweetly at him, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach when he said my name, as my body slowly relaxed, and my sense of humor peeked over my sky-high protective walls, intrigued by this boy’s persuasive coaxing.
“Well, shite.” Johnny was smiling now. “You’re a sarcastic little thing when you want to be, aren’t you?”
Feeling a sudden burst of playfulness, I shrugged and said, “I know you are but what am I?”
“Now you’re being a messer.”
“I know you are but what am I?” I repeated, smirking.
“Sticks and stones will break my bones,” he quipped, playing along now. “But girls will never hurt me.”
“It’s ‘words’ will never hurt me,” I corrected, finding myself mirroring his smile. “Not ‘girls.’”
“Not in my world,” he replied with a low chuckle.
“Liar, liar,” I spurted, “your pants are on fire.”
A loud snort tore out of him.
“I suppose you’re going to give me the whole ‘bitch means dog, dog means nature, and nature means beauty’ spiel next?” he snickered.
“That depends,” I challenged, feeling both at ease and on edge around him.
