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Something to help me make it through the days.
"What's the story with the two of you?" Podge asked then, obviously trying to clear the air, as he gestured across the classroom. “And don’t feed me the same line you give everyone else.”
“Who?” I replied flatly, sliding my phone back into my pocket.
“Who?” Podge gave me a ‘don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining’look. “Aoife, ya bollox. Who else?”
The minute he said her name, I found myself searching the room for her familiar blonde hair, only to discover that she was already staring at me.
With my brow cocked, I stared back at her, and mouthed the wordstalker.
Proving, once again, that she was unlike any other girl in our year, who would blush and look away under scrutiny, Molloy arched a brow right back at me and mouthedfuck up.
I winked.Nice legs
Grinning, she scratched her nose in with her middle finger.Asshole.
Biting back the urge to laugh, I shook my head and turned away, knowing all too well how distracting she could be. Somedays, she wasted entire classes worth of my time with her playful, bullshit antics.
While we never actually cleared the air after the fight I had with her precious prick of a boyfriend a few weeks back, she had somehow wormed her way back into my good graces. Something I had vowed would never happen after witnessing her once again go back tohim.
My attempt at ignoring her had lasted three days, because, in all honesty, staying away from Aoife Molloy was almost as difficult for me as staying mad at her was.
She was my boss’s daughter, and I shared a classroom with her for seven hours a day. Some of our classes had mandatory seating plans, where I was given no choice but to endure her witty banter for forty minutes at a time.
On Wednesdays, we had four classes in which we were partnered up. That was a hard damn day to ignore her, which was how I had only lasted three days in the first place.
I didn’t know what to make of her, if I was being completely honest. She was like the sweetest fucking smell that wouldn't go away.
A part of me was terrified that she would keep digging, somehow manage to break through my walls, through every one of my rotten layers, until she got to the ugly center of me, and then run for the hills.
A bigger part of me refused to care.
Why should I?
What the fuck did it matter to me if she walked away or not?
I wasn't losing any sleep over her.
I refused to.
She meant nothing to me, and she never would.
Plagued with an immeasurable weight of responsibility from the moment I fell out of bed in the morning until I collapsed back into it at night, I struggled to maintain anything more than a casual friendship or hookup in my personal life, which was fine by me.
I didn’t know how to trust people and I didn’t want to learn how. I had plenty of acquaintances, so-called friends to fuck around with at school and training.
Besides, I didn’t need the hassle of having any extra people draining from steadily depleting supply of energy.
My family did enough of that on the daily.
“There’s no story, Podge,” I said, clearing my thoughts. “She’s got it in her head that we’re friends.”
“Aren’t ye?”
I don’t know what we are.
Bumming a pen from his pencil case, I quickly forged a week’s worth of my mother’s signatures on my homework journal, and bad behavior report book, signing off on every note of warning I’d received from my teachers and year head, and then admired my handy work.
