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“Hetoldyou?”
“He told everyone, Molloy.”
“Who?” Her face fell and I felt like a piece of shit. “Who did he tell?”
The look of sadness in her eyes made me want to hit the prick all over again.
It had been worth the suspension.
Hearing Ricey tell half of the lads in our PE class about how Tony’s daughter was so tight he could barely get a finger inside her had caused me to flip the fuck out on him in the changing rooms.
I did it for Tony because he wasn’t there to do it himself.
At least, that’s what I continued to tell myself.
“He’s a prick, Molloy,” I bit out. “Prick’s talk, so word of warning; never do anything with one that you don’t want his entire circle of friends knowing about.”
“You don’t.”
“I don’t want?”
“Talk.”
“That’s because I’m not a prick. I’m an asshole, remember?” Stepping around her, I crossed the street towards her house, not looking back to see if she was following. I could tell she was by the sound of her high heels clicking on the ground.
“So, come on, since you’re so forthcoming tonight, tell me why you don’t like me anymore?”
“That’s a desperate question to ask a fella.”
“Don’t you mean an asshole? And you know I don’t mean it like that.”
“It’s still desperate.”
“Answer me anyway.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because? Come on, Joey. Please.”
“We’re not compatible,” I said, blowing out a frustrated breath.
“To have a conversation together?”
“To have anything together.”
“So, what you’re basically saying is that you think you’re too good to be my friend?” She planted her hands on her hips. “To hang out or be seen with me?”
The opposite.
“You asked me a question,” I told her, opening her front gate and gestured for her to go inside. “I answered you. Take it whatever way you like.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I don’t care,” I replied, hand on the gate. “Now, I walked you home, safe and sound, with plenty of time to get your precious homework done. You’re welcome.”
