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SAOIRSE
Exhausted from today's events,I indulge in an extra-long shower before pulling on the fresh pair of pyjamas shorts and a matching cami top I borrowed from Beibhinn.
Then, finally, when I am scrubbed and shaved to within an inch of my life, I climb into bed, ready to succumb to the weeks’ worth of sleep my mind has deprived me. Flopping backwards, my body bounces against the expensive mattress, forcing an appreciative moan to push past my lips.
I should never have left you this morning. I’m sorry, forgive me, please.
Every cell in my body screams at me to close my eyes, but my mind won’t shut up for whatever reason. Restless, I twist and turn against the soft cotton, stretching out my aching limbs. I’m shattered from this morning’s run and the long hours I worked out with Liam. Not to mention all the emotional shit that followed. Somehow, I thought I had tired myself enough to fight away the nightmares and get a decent night's sleep before I start school tomorrow.
The first day at a new school is always challenging. Trust me, I have had enough of them to last me a lifetime. If I have learnt anything with each fresh start, it’s that they all begin and end the same. Let’s just say I’m a pro when it comes to navigating the set of challenges being the new girl brings. Once I walk through those doors, things will go one of a few ways.
The weaker will cower, leaving me to fend for myself. Then the elite popular kids, the top tier, as I call them, will divide into two groups: boys versus girls.
The boys will view me as fresh meat, a game in which they’ll try to win. The prize: which one will get dibs on the new girl? They’ll spend the day wooing me with fake smiles and shitty one-liners, all while deciding if I am an easy lay or a waste of their time. I can tell you now, it’s the latter, but that won’t stop them from trying.
Then, there are the girls. This one is a little trickier because girls are unpredictable. They’ll watch first, strike later. Then, either they’ll circle, treating me as though I am their prey, before settling out to make my life miserable. Or they will invite me in, deeming me worthy enough to sit with them. Speaking from experience, it’s almost always the former.
Yay-fecking-me!
My heavy lids fight to stay open, so I reach over to the side dresser, and just as I’m about to flick off the bedside light, a continuous rap softly pounds against my bedroom door, stilling my movements.
You have got to be kidding me.
Not in the mood for any more socialising and clutching onto the sliver of sleep I’m fading into, I ignore the banging and flick the switch before lying back and pulling the covers over my head.
There isn’t a chance in Batman’s cave I’m opening that door.
“Maybe if I ignore it, whoever it is will go away,” I murmur. Only, I am not so lucky. The fourth round of taps ensues, then, with a frustrated groan — accompanied by several scissor kicks — I flip the covers off and pad towards the door, lips pursed, and my lousy attitude builds with each step.
My fingers curl around the doorknob as I twist, unlatching the door. Finally, I rip it open, ready to tear my intruder a new arsehole. “Go away. I’m slee—” The argument dies on my lips.
My brows furrow into a frown when my sleepy gaze lands on a shirtless Liam. His tousled hair stands up in a chaotic mess — as if he’s spent the past few hours tugging it with his hands. His eyes are heavy, squinted into half-moons, and a glimmer of sadness lingers in the small smile tugging at his upper lip.
Like the little traitors they are, my sleepy eyes veer south, lapping up every inch of Liam’s tattooed torso and God-must-have-carved-him muscles. For a long beat, I linger on the intricate canvas adorning his chest and abdomen. At first glance, it seems like a depiction ofThe Last Supper, but upon further inspection, instead of Jesus and his Twelve Disciples seated at the table, it’s the Greek Gods of Olympus.
Christ, that’s hot!
“Hey,” he greets, drawing my attention away from his bare chest and back to his chiselled face. “Sorry, did I wake you?” His chin tilts down as he peers at me over the rim of his inky lashes.
“Erm, no, I, um…” I toss my thumb over my shoulder. “I was just, erm…”
Hello, ability to form a coherent sentence? Are you there?
“My mam wanted me to give you this.” His sorrowful eyes are downcast to the floor as he holds out a black garment bag, gesturing for me to take it with the tip of his chin. “It’s your uniform for school tomorrow.”
“Oh.” My fingertips brush against his as my grasp closes around the hanger, and quickly I pull back, taking the bag with me. “Thanks.”
“I’ll let you get back to…” He motions towards the bed and then turns on his heel.
For a second longer than I should, I lean against the door, allowing it to hold me up as I watch him retreat towards his bedroom. Two steps, and suddenly, as though he thought better of his exit, he halts. His shoulders droop with a stout exhale.
Finally, he turns around, latching his icy gaze on mine. His head shakes left and right as if he’s debating with whatever conversation is going on inside his head.
“About earlier…” He lifts his hand to the back of his head, rubbing away his uncertainty and giving me a delicious view of his bulging biceps.
Stop it, Saoirse.
“I’m…I’m sorry.” Those two words float between us, soaking up all the surrounding air. “Rohan…he gets under my skin, and when I saw you with him, it...”
