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“They?”
“The lads on the rugby team,” she explained. “With the exception of Hugh—and possibly Patrick.”
I scrunched my nose up. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Claire replied, grimacing. “And the only reason Gerard carries on like that with me is because I’m Hughie’s little sister and he knows he can’t have me.” Sighing, she added, “It’s a harmless game of flirting to him that won’t amount to anything.”
“What about you?” I asked, tone gentle. “What’s it to you?”
Claire chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds before whispering, “Torment.”
That was all the clarification I needed to confirm my suspicions.
Claire liked Gerard—or Gibsie—or whatever his name was.
In that moment, given the recent surge of hormones battering my reproductive system, brought on by the injection of Johnny Kavanagh into my life, I could relate to my friend in the most fundamental way.
“Boys with pretty eyes and big muscles mess everything up for girls,” Claire huffed.
“Yep,” I agreed weakly. “They certainly do.”
“What are we like?” Claire chuckled half-heartedly. “Both liking the worst possible thing for us.”
“Me?” I shook my head and jumped into denial mode. “I don’t like anyone.”
“Yeah, right,” Claire scoffed. “Don’t even try to pretend, Little Miss Blush. I see the way you watch him.”
“Claire.” I shook my head and sighed. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh, look,” she gasped, pointing behind me. “Johnny’s coming over here.”
“W-what?” Startled, I swung around to discover she was lying.
“Ha,” Claire snickered. “I knew it.”
“Not funny,” I mumbled, patting my burning cheeks.
“Don’t worry, Shan,” she replied, smiling knowingly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
7Midnight Blue
JOHNNY
Shannon Lynch had eyes the color of midnight blue that wouldn’t stay the fuck out of my head. At least that’s the closest comparison I could find on the countless internet searches I had performed.
Color chart searches on the internet were confusing, but not nearly as baffling as my fucked-up brain that, like a broken record, seemed to be stuck on repeat.
My brain’s track of choice: Shannon like the river, with the gorgeous blue eyes, face of an angel, and the troubled past.
After reading her file, it took me several days to absorb the contents, and several more before I found the restraint I needed to not drive down to BCS and beat the ever-living shite out of her bullies.
All that first week back after Christmas break, I worried over the girl, waiting to see if tomorrow would be the day she returned to school. My anxiety levels were through the roof by the time Friday hit and she hadn’t returned.
It had bothered me so much that I stopped by Mr. Twomey’s office to check in. It was there that I learned I had, in fact, given the girl an unmerciful concussion and that she was at home on bed rest for the remainder of the week.
When Shannon returned to school the following Monday, I was called straight to the office, where I was greeted by Mr. Twomey, Miss Nyhan, the year-head for third years, Mr. Crowley, my year-head, and the human incubator that was Mrs. Lynch.
There, it was explained to me that while they were aware that my actions on the pitch were accidental, it would be best if I kept my distance from Shannon to avoid any future incidents.
