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The problem was, I hadn’t been a child since I was ten.
When rugby took off for me, I left that shite behind, my childhood dreams of playing rugby morphing into a focused, hungry, driven obsession. I had spent the past seven years in beast mode 24/7 and had the physical body shape and size to prove it.
My father was easier on me.
He mollified my mother and coaxed her to stop worrying so much—telling her that it could be worse. I could be going out getting stoned off my head after school or getting legless with the rest of my friends down the pub.
Instead of doing any of that, I trained. I spent my days studying, my afternoons on the pitch, my evenings in the gym, and my weekends rotating between all three.
Jaysus, I couldn’t recall the last time I blew off the gym for a night out with the lads or ate an ice-cream cone without worrying about wasteful calories and unbalanced macronutrients.
I ate clean, I trained hard, and I followed every order, suggestion, and demand given to me by my coaches and trainers. It wasn’t an easy lifestyle to uphold, but it was the one I had chosen for myself. I trusted my gut and pursued my dreams with relentless drive, taking comfort in the fact that I was almost there. Until I made it—and I would make it—I would continue to make the sacrifices and remain focused, dedicated, and undistracted from bullshit teenage drama.
Those were the exact reasons I was feeling so edgy.
A girl, a fucking female I’d known for no longer than two hours, had managed to do what no one else ever had: knock me off-kilter.
Shannon like the river was on my mind, and I didn’t fucking like it.
I didn’t like that she was taking up valuable time in my head. Time I didn’t have to spare or to give to anything—or anyone—other than rugby.
“She was already pulled out of Ballylaggin Community School for being verbally and physically attacked. And what happens on her first day at Tommen? This!”
“You assured me this kind of thing wouldn’t happen at this school and look what happened on her first day!”
“Shannon, I don’t know what to do with you anymore. I really don’t, baby. I thought this place would be different for you.”
What the hell was going on? What happened to her?
And why the fuck was I obsessing about her like this?
I barely knew the girl. It shouldn’t matter to me.
Jaysus, I needed to get a life.
Take up watching some train-wreck reality TV program or something—anything to block out today’s events and those lonesome blue eyes.
Forcing myself to block her out, I concentrated on tending to my injuries, all the while thinking about potential strategy and tactics for the match on Friday.
When I was all patched up and had thrown my school uniform back on, I checked the time on my phone and noted that if I hurried my ass up, I would make it to my last class.
I skimmed through a couple of new text messages from Bella, asking me if I was better and wanted to meet up. I shot her a quick reply saying, Still out of action, and waited for her response.
It came almost immediately, followed by several more texts.
I’m getting sick of this shit, Johnny.
I don’t like being ignored.
Everyone’s talking about you, you know.
Saying your performance on the pitch is going to crap.
It made the papers.
They’re saying you’re losing your touch.
I agree.
