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“What a pack of langers,” Gibsie tossed out angrily.
“Pussies,” Hughie agreed.
“To be fair,” Patrick Feely mused, “the team seems willing to play. It’s their coach with the issue.”
“Issue?” I asked, sidling up to Claire because Lizzie’s mouth was currently occupied by Pierce’s tongue. “What’s going on? Is the match canceled?”
“Royce’s coach is refusing to allow his team to play if Coach plays Johnny,” Claire explained, looking as enraged as everyone else.
“What?” I gaped at her. “Why?”
“Because they’re a pack of fucking cowards who are too scared to play against him?” Gibsie offered, tone laced with sarcasm. “Eejits.”
“So, what—they’re trying to punish him for being a good player?” I asked, quite frankly shocked.
“I think it has more to do with being a player with fifteen caps for Ireland, Shan,” Hughie responded.
“Caps for Ireland?”
“The amount of times he’s played for his country,” he quickly explained.
“So what?” I shot back defensively. “He earned every one of those. They weren’t handed to him.”
“I’m not arguing with you,” Hughie replied, chuckling. “It just intimidates some coaches.”
“What’s going on?” Johnny’s voice filled my ears, moments before he came to stand beside me.
His arm brushed against mine, and even though there were several layers of clothing between us, my skin still broke out in goose bumps.
“The usual shit,” Gibsie informed him. “They won’t play if you’re playing.”
Johnny shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, well.”
I turned to look at him, stunned by his lack of response.
“This happens a lot,” Johnny quickly explained, noticing my expression. “Coach will get it sorted,” he added before turning to the boys and saying, “Round up the lads in the changing room. Tog out and we’ll get started on warm-ups.”
Nodding, both Hughie and the other boy jogged off in the direction of the clubhouse, calling fellow teammates as they went.
“Johnny, lad, this could take hours to clear up,” Gibsie groaned.
With all traces of his earlier vulnerability long gone, Johnny said, “Then we’ll have hours of practice. Now move your ass.”
“Say a prayer for me,” Gibsie told Claire. He then dove toward her and smacked a loud smoochy kiss on her cheek before jogging away.
“Ew, Gerard!” Claire called after him, wiping her flushed cheek with her sleeve.
“Pierce,” Johnny snapped, turning his attention to the shaved-headed boy with his tongue down my friend’s throat. “Get out of the girl and onto the pitch.”
Muttering something about Captain Cockblock under his breath, Pierce pressed one final kiss to Lizzie’s lips before sprinting off toward the team.
Johnny inclined his head toward me. “You okay?”
I nodded.
He reached up and tucked a rogue strand of hair behind my ear, then whispered, “I’ll see ya later,” and turned around and sprinted off to join his teammates.
Wow, I thought to myself, determination flows through that boy’s veins just as potently as the terror that flows through mine.
