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It was progress.
I turned my attention back to my classmate, who had narrowly avoided another trip to the lion’s den.
The only reason Joey wasn’t being sent to the office by our elderly teacher was because he was her best student by a country mile.
Looking ridiculously adorable in his stripy apron, with his cap slung backwards, Joey skulked over to where our teacher was standing and took the dishcloth from her outstretched hand.
“Good boy,” the old woman said in an approving tone when my partner got down on his hands and knees and mopped up the mess.
If anyone in our class had a hope of taking home an A in their Home Economics exam in the Junior Cert then it was the brooding boy beside me, who had returned to the sink in our little station to rinse out a chili-stained dishcloth.
Knowing it was a terrible idea, I looked to the top of the classroom, to where Danielle was partnered up with Mack. Yep; there she was, ogling the strip of golden skin on display, as Joey stretched his arm up to wipe chili off the classroom wall.
Beyond frustrated, I quickly snatched up a spoon and busied myself with stirring our pot of chili, all the while deciding that it was a good thing Mrs. Adams had confiscated our soup ladle. Otherwise I might be inclined to fling another batch at Danielle’s bleached blonde head.
Ugh.
The sound of laughter filled my ears then and I regrettably turned just in time to see my so-called partner wiping a smidge of chili off her bare leg.
“Nice aim, Joey,” Danielle laughed, holding onto his shoulders for balance, as he crouched in front of her and cleaned her fucking leg.
“Nice legs.”
Oh no he did not!
He did.
He fucking did!
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to throw up.
The jealousy that rose up inside of me was so intense that I could physically feel my body temperature rising.
As a matter of fact, if someone was to take my temperature right that second, it wouldn’t have surprised me to discover that I was spiking a fever.
Keep the head,I mentally instructed myself.Do not pick up this pot of Chili and throw it at them. Don’t do it, Aoife. You are too much of a princess for prison. Think of your nails. Just keep stirring.
“So,” the flirtatious bastard himself said when he rejoined me at our station. “What’s your party trick?”
Deciding it was safer to remain quiet than to explode in front of everyone, I refocused on the pot of chili con carne that I had been attempting to stir, and forced out a clipped, “Hm?”
“Your party trick,” Joey repeated, coming to stand beside me. “And don’t say puking on demand, because I will go out in sympathy with you.”
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I strived for calm and managed to strangle out a blasé, “I don’t have one.”
Reaching around me, he grabbed the salt and sprinkled a pinch into the pot. “I don’t believe that for a second.” His chest brushed against my back as he spoke and the smell of grass, and lynx, flooded my senses. He always smelled so good. It was soannoying. “A girl like you always has a trick up her sleeve.”
“A girl like me?” I deadpanned, trying to keep my freshly manicured nailsawayfrom the red staining goo, while also trying to keep my emotions in check.
“Stop.” Stilling my wrist with one hand, Joey took the teaspoon I was holding with the other and replaced it with a longer handled wooden spoon instead. “Use this.”
I narrowed my eyes and glared at the wooden spoon in my hand. “Why?”
“Because you might actually stir something with it.”
“Asshole,” I grumbled, shoving him with my hip.
