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“I won’t,” Johnny stated, seemingly able to read my thoughts. “Whatever you’re used to,” he continued to say, eyes locked on mine. “Or whoever you’re used to. Whatever’s responsible for that sad look in your eyes—” He paused to brush his thumb over my cheekbone. “That’s not me, I’m not like that, and I won’t do that to you.”
“You promise?” I whispered, then quickly chided myself.
When I was anxious, I always asked for a promise. It was a terrible habit I had from spending years of my life living in a constant state of uncertain anxiety.
Usually, I asked for those promises from my brother, and Joey supplied me with an abundance of them to ebb some of the stress. Whether my brother meant to keep those promises or not, the small affirmation, however impossible or ridiculous, appeased something inside of me for a little while, making life a little more bearable.
“I promise,” Johnny surprised me by saying.
In that moment, and with those two small words, Johnny Kavanagh unknowingly blasted a hole clean through the wall around my heart.
“Please don’t do that,” I whisper-begged, as I frantically tried to repair the hole he’d left in me with facets of information like Don’t get attached because he’s leaving soon, and past experiences like the night he hurt me or, worse, the night he rejected me.
Johnny frowned. “Do what?”
“Make promises,” I breathed, heart slamming against my rib cage. “Please don’t.”
“I just did,” he told me unapologetically. “It’s out there, and I’m not taking it back.”
My stomach flipped. My heart jackknifed. My entire body trembled.
This isn’t safe, my brain warned. Block him out. Protect yourself. Don’t let him in.
“I don’t go back on my word, Shannon,” Johnny added. “So, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
Then he dropped his attention to the notebook still in his hands and began to furiously scribble something inside before handing it back to me a minute or so later.
“What do you say?” he asked with a smirk.
I glanced down at the page and choked out a laugh.
In neat capital letters were the words: SHANNON LIKE THE RIVER. WILL YOU PLEASE BE MY FRIEND?
Two hand-drawn boxes were sketched below the writing. One box had a yes over it, and the other had a no. The yes box had a smiley face. The no box had a sad face.
At the bottom of the page were the words: SIGNED BY alongside a slightly crooked line with his signature scrawled across it. Beneath the line with Johnny’s name was an empty line for my name and he had dated the note January 10, 2005, my first day at Tommen.
A side note stating: PS: SHANNON PROMISES NOT TO SUE JOHNNY WHEN HE’S SIGNED FOR THE PROS FOR ANY INJURIES HE MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE CAUSED HER ON THE DATE MENTIONED ABOVE. THIS IS A VALID DISCLAIMER, I SHIT YOU NOT took up the last few lines of the page.
It was ridiculous, adorable, and I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face.
“To be fair, I think we’ve been friends for a while,” Johnny offered with a boyish smile. “I’m just putting it down on paper so you can stop ducking and dodging me at school.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you at school,” I denied quickly—too quickly.
Johnny arched a brow and the look he gave me screamed bullshit.
“Fine, I’ve been avoiding you at school.” I admitted, mortified.
“I like honesty,” he encouraged with a teasing lilt to his voice. “It’s the foundation of a solid friendship.”
I laughed and smiled down at the note. “And you actually want me to sign this?”
“I exerted a great deal of imagination drafting that up,” Johnny shot back. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”
I shook my head and bit back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Fair warning, though.” He chuckled. “I don’t have sisters and I’ve never been friends with a girl before so if I fuck this up or say the wrong thing, you’ll need to have patience with me.”
