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Claire nodded happily.
He gave her a huge smile before standing up and ruffling her curls. “See you then, Claire-Bear.”
My gaze found its way back to Johnny, who was standing at the edge of the table with a thunderous expression etched on his face.
“Bye, Johnny,” I told him in a small voice.
His features softened instantly as he looked down at me and smiled. “Bye, Shannon.”
“Well, that was the strangest thing that’s happened in a while,” Claire announced when the boys were gone.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Very strange.”
15Bathroom Breaks and Propositions
SHANNON
When people say something is too good to be true, it usually is.
That was exactly how I felt when I stepped out of the bathroom on Tuesday evening after school and collided with a hard chest. Surprised to find anyone standing outside the bathroom when the final bell had long gone, I let out a small squeak.
“How’s it going, Shannon?” the blond, vaguely familiar boy asked, grinning down at me.
The halls were relatively empty, with only a few students rambling down the corridors, leading me to believe that he had been waiting out here for me. After all, the girls’ bathroom was an unusual spot for a boy to loiter outside of, especially one togged out in a jersey, shorts, and football boots.
Panic mixed with a large dollop of wariness flared to life inside of me.
“Um, fine,” I replied, tucking and then retucking my hair behind my ear, a nervous trait. “How are you?”
“Better now I’m talking to you,” he announced, confirming my worst nightmare, as he stepped closer, the studs on his boots clanging against the floor.
“Were you waiting out here for me?” I forced myself to ask, needing the vocal confirmation. Don’t ask me why, but I needed to clarify the crazy. “In your—” I gestured to his attire, “P.E. kit?”
“I was training and forgot my mouth guard in my locker,” he explained, not one bit embarrassed by any of this. “I saw you going into the bathroom when I was heading to my locker so I figured I’d wait around to talk to you.” Shrugging like his nonsense explanation was a perfectly acceptable one, he added, “I’m Ronan, by the way. Ronan McGarry. We have French together.”
His tone was friendly, but I knew better than to be fooled.
Friendly could turn to bully in a nanosecond.
“Yeah. I know.” Taking a step back to regain my personal space, I added, “Well, it was nice of you to come say hi, but I have to go catch my bus. It leaves soon and the driver won’t wait—”
“I saw you on the pitch that day, Shannon,” he purred, voice low, eyes alight with excitement. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He took another step toward me, invading my space once more. “In your knickers? Those killer legs… I saw all of you.”
My heart sank. Every muscle in my body locked tight with dread.
This was it. What I had been waiting for. The inevitable taunting.
I was vaguely aware of Ronan McGarry, having sat in front of him in French class the past few weeks, but I hadn’t realized he was on the rugby team. I hadn’t noticed him on the pitch last week, but then, I hadn’t noticed anyone other than Johnny that day. I guess it made sense though, what with the muddy kit he was currently wearing and the bruised cheekbone. But I didn’t have anything to say to him, so I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to speak.
He would.
They always did.
“And I have to be honest, Shannon.” He reached up and tugged on my braid with his mud-stained hand, not hard—it was in more of a playful way—but I didn’t like the intrusion. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”
Feign indifference, Shannon. Pretend you don’t care.
Stepping sideways to free my hair from his grasp, I brushed off his words with a small shrug and readjusted my bag on my shoulders.
