JANUARY 7TH 2004
AOIFE
I HEARD about the fight after lunch on Wednesday.
It was all anyone could talk about, as the school bustled with gossip and rumors.
Apparently, Ciara Maloney had orchestrated some type of vicious attack on Joey Lynch’s younger sister, Shannon, and in retaliation, Joey had pummeled Ciara’s brother; beating Mike until his face was unrecognizable.
Both Mike and Shannon had reportedly been taken to the doctor by their respective mothers, while Ciara sat it out in detention, and Joey went on the missing list.
“It has to be his last strike,” Paul said, sitting to my left, and looking entirely too happy about the whole horrible situation.
“Lynch has had too many chances,” Paul continued, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Nyhan’s definitely going to expel him this time.”
Kind of like how you’ve had too many chances with me. I thought to myself, still feeling salty over how he had tried to pressure me on New Year’s Eve.
“I don’t know, Paul,” Casey replied, from where she was sitting to the right of me, dragging me from my thoughts. “If he expels Joey, then he’ll have to expel Ciara, too, for what she did to Joey’s sister, and somehow I can’t see that happening.”
“Even after he almost put Mike in the hospital?” Leaning forward in his seat, Paul talked over me, giving my best friend his sole attention. “You weren’t there, Case; you didn’t see Mike’s face. He was mangled. Lynchy had to be physically dragged off the lad,” he argued. “I don’t care how good of a hurler he is, that lad is a liability. A fucking lunatic.”
“Hey, I’m not arguing with you about the guy,” Casey replied. “Joey Lynch might be sex on legs but he’s about two fights shy of a stint in prison.”
“Yeah, a stint in prison or a strait jacket,” Paul muttered under his breath. “And he’s been with so many girls, he’s more like a walking sexually transmitted disease on legs.”
“Well, he can feel free to infect me any time he likes,” Casey replied, waggling her brows.
“That’s not funny.”
“Ah, would you relax, I’m only joking,” Casey shot back with a laugh. “Well, about the infection part, at least. If boys were fairground rides, Joey Lynch would be the rollercoaster.” Her eyes danced with mischief as she winked and said, “You can’t blame a girl for wanting to take a ride on that bad boy.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
“Nice analogy,” Paul grumbled, looking thoroughly disgusted.
“Ah, don’t worry, Paulie boy,” Casey teased, reaching over to pat his hand. “You’re a definite fairground ride, too.”
“I am?” He grinned wolfishly. “Which one?”
“The teacups,” she snorted.
“Oh, pack it in, the pair of you,” I snapped, annoyed with the entire situation. “You’re acting like he’s this terrible person when he’s not. He’s just…he was defending his sister who had been terrorized.”
“Yeah, Aoif, but Mike didn’t do it,” Casey offered up. “He was just an innocent bystander.”
“Oh, you mean the same way his sister was innocent. That didn’t stop Ciara Maloney from cutting the poor girl’s hair off, now, did it?”
“Get a grip, Aoife,” Paul scoffed. “There’s a big difference in giving someone a haircut and beating seven kinds of shit out of a person.”
“Giving someone a haircut?” I balked. “Did I just hear that right? Listen, I’m not condoning what Joey did to Mike, because that was outright insanity. But I’m telling you right now that if anyone tried to hack my hair off with a pair of rusty scissors, then I would take leave of my senses.”
“True,” Casey reluctantly agreed. “I would lose my shit.”
“Exactly,” I pressed. “It would be the very last thing they did with scissors, that’s for sure. And that’s his baby sister that happened to,” I added. “You’ve seen Shannon Lynch walking through the halls between classes; she like a mouse. She couldn’t defend herself if she tried.”
“So, because his sister can’t defend herself, that gives him the right to use his fists to fight her battles?” Paul arched a brow, clearly unimpressed that I had a different opinion on the matter. “He’s nothing but a thug. A hot-headed bully. One you should steer clear of.”
“Care to say that to his face?” I heard myself toss back heatedly.
“No,” Paul drawled in a sarcastic tone. “Because he would try to rearrange my face with his fists – like he already tried to do on several occasions, Aoife. Which is exactly the point I’m trying to make about the prick.” He shook his head and muttered, “To be honest, I don’t know how your father puts up with him at the garage. Tony must be a god honest saint to have stuck it out so long with that waste of space.”
“He’s a good worker,” I was quick to point out. “Dad’s always praising how dependable and punctual and hardworking Joey is, so maybe you don’t know as much about him as you think you do.”
“What’s this?’ Paul growled. “The I-heart-Joey-Lynch club?”
“Well, it sure beats the complain-about-him-until-you’ve-bored-everyone-to-tears club that you’re the founding member of,” I shot back, unwilling to back down.
“Why are you always defending him?” he demanded, tone laced with annoyance.
“Because you’re always talking shit about him,” I snapped back. “He’s my friend, Paul. Deal with it.”
“Christ.” Paul narrowed his eyes. “If you still like the guy so much then what are you doing with me?”
“Good question,” I snapped. “I’ve been asking myself that exact question a lot these days.”
Paul reeled back like I’d struck him. “Are you serious?”
“Whoa, guys, everyone take a chill pill,” Casey interjected. “Let’s not have a fight over this.”
“Who’s fighting?” I snapped, very much in fighting form.
“Whatever,” Paul grumbled. “That prick doesn’t deserve this much airtime. The sooner he’s expelled and out of this school, the better for all of us.”
“It’s so easy for you all to sit there and judge him,” Podge erupted, as he shoved his chair back and pushed out of his desk. “When not one of you knows what that lad has to deal with. You don’t have the slightest inkling.”
“We all have shit to deal with, Podge,” Paul argued, unapologetically. “That doesn’t give any of us the right to walk around like a ticking time-bomb, and it doesn’t give him the right to do it, either. He doesn’t get a free pass to kick someone’s head in every time he loses his temper.”
“You’ve just proven my point exactly,” Podge said. “You don’t have a clue.” He turned his disappointed gaze on me. “I thought you, of all people, would know better than to judge him.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “Me of all people?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Aoife.”
“I don’t,” I replied in confusion. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” Podge snapped. “You act like his friend, but I guess that’s all it is, an act, because the minute the chips are down, you talk shit about him with the rest of them.”
“Hey, back off,” Casey warned, quickly coming to my defense. “Don’t start on her just because your friend fucked-up. She’s not his cheerleader.”
“You know what,” Podge growled, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for this shit.” Having said that, he shouldered both his and Joey’s school bags onto his back and stormed out of the classroom.
Feeling like I had been sucker punched in the gut, I quickly scooped up my things and hurried after him, ignoring protests from Paul, Casey, and the poor substitute teacher attempting to rein in the class.
“Podge, wait,” I call after my redheaded classmate as he stalked off in the direction of the school exit. “Wait a minute, will you?”
“I’m not in the form, Aoife,” was all he replied. Not turning around he pushed the glass doors open and walked outside into the latest downpour of January rain. “I’m really not.”
“What did you mean back there?” I asked, falling into step alongside him, as he hurried away from the school. “About the crap Joey has to deal with?” I blew out a frustrated breath. “What crap?”
“Like you haven’t figured out by now,” Podge grumbled. “You’re not blind, Aoife, and you’re far from stupid, either.”
“Humor me,” I pleaded. “Come on, Podge, tell me what you meant.”
“You’ve seen the condition he comes into school in,” he snapped, losing his cool. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the bruises, Aoife. Not when they’re so fucking obvious that he can’t hide them most of the time. Come on, girl, it doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s getting the stuffing knocked out of him when he’s not at school.”
And there it was.
It was something I definitely hadn’t expected him to say, but in a weird, unsettling way, I also sort of had.
My mind wandered back to the scars I knew he bore beneath his clothes, and further back again, to an altercation I witnessed a couple of years back where, after losing the county final to the neighboring town, Joey had come to blows with who I presumed was his father at the back of GAA Pavilion carpark.
At the time, I’d put it down to his usual hot-headedness and the fact that Ballylaggin had been hammered in the game.
But now, recalling the way the bigger man had pushed and shoved at him before clamping a hand on the back of his neck and physically forcing Joey into the back of a car, it was becoming a lot clearer.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hand.
“Don’t act so surprised,” Podge accused. “He works with your father. Like you didn’t know what’s been going down.”
“I didn’t! Wait – Joey told you that?” I demanded, reaching out to grab ahold of his jumper. “He told you that his father is beating him?”
Pausing mid-step, Podge swung around and gave me a look that said are you crazy? “No, of course he didn’t tell me,” he spat, tone indignant. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s a fair bit closed off. Joey doesn’t tell anyone what happens in that house. I’ve heard enough rumors, and seen him come into school enough times with black eyes, to know that he has it a lot harder than you or that self-righteous asshole you call your boyfriend.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” I snapped, flushing. “I was trying to defend him back there.”
“Yeah, sure you were,” he sneered before walking off.
“I was,” I argued, hurrying after him once more. “I don’t have the same opinion of Joey that Paul has. I don’t. I have my own mind, Podge.”
“Well then maybe you should use it sometime,” he shot back, “and maybe you should speak up a little louder for the lad, especially considering he’s returned the favor a time or two for you.”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Podge bit out, upping his pace in his obvious bid to get away from me. “It means nothing at all.”
“Where are you going with his school bag?” I called after him, pushing my damp hair out of my eyes, as the rain continued to hammer down on us.
“Taking it to him!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Wherever the hell he might be.”
“Let me do it,” I heard myself say, as I raced after him in the rain. “I can find him, Podge,” I repeated, slipping Joey’s bag off his shoulder and onto mine. “Let me do it.”
He watched me with mistrustful eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“Why, though?”
“Because I just do, okay!”
“Fine.” He eyed me warily. “You won’t tell Joe what I said to you about his uh, his dad, will you? Because he’ll lose his—’
“I won’t,” I promised, cutting him off. Not when I had every intention of having him tell me himself.
He wasn’t at the garage with Dad, he wasn’t at the GAA grounds, and he wasn’t at any of the other local haunts I knew he frequented.
That only left one place.
His house.
The estate I lived on didn’t have the best reputation, but it was Disneyland compared to the one he lived on.
With some houses on his street boarded up, and even more covered in graffiti, it was safe to say that Elk’s Terrace had a definitive air of misery about it.
There was a burnt-out car at the far end of the dilapidated green near his house, close to where three ponies were roaming freely, grazing on the overgrown grass and weeds.
Jesus.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I rounded his graffiti-clad garden wall, walked up to the front door, and knocked loudly.
Several beats passed before the sound of key jiggling in the lock filled my ears.
A few seconds later, the door opened inwards, but only a crack. “Yes?”
“Hi,” I said, smiling brightly at the young girl peeking through the crack in the door. Shannon, I quickly noted. “Is Joey here? I need a word with him.”
She glanced behind her and then quickly shook her head. “He hasn’t come home yet.” Red-eyed and sniffling, her skittish gaze flicked to the school bag I was holding, and she slowly opened the door further. “Is that his bag?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “He left it at school. I’m just returning it.”
The sound of raised voices drifted from somewhere behind her and she quickly reached for the bag. “Thank you for bringing it home for him. I can give it to him.“
“That’s okay,” I replied, taking a step backwards, hand firmly clamped around the strap as I hoisted it onto my shoulder. “I can wait.”
Something was off.
I could feel it in the air the moment she opened the door to me.
Podge’s earlier words flashed through my mind, and I winced sympathetically, before quickly steeling my resolve.
“Like I said, I need a word with your brother,” I added, offering her what I hoped was a warm smile. “I’m Aoife, by the way. Aoife Molloy. Joey works with my dad.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, keeping her head down as she clutched the door like it was the only thing holding her up. “I know who you are. You were at my Granda Murphy’s funeral.”
“Yeah, I was. And you’re Shannon, right?” I knew that was exactly who she was. “Joey’s little sister?” I had seen her around school many times since she joined BCS, but she kept to herself, never making eye-contact with anyone long enough to be noticed.
Looking at her now, it was hard to peg her for older than eleven. She was only a couple of years younger than me, but she had the body of a small child.
“Yes.” Nodding, she kept her chin tucked down as she whispered, “I’m Shannon.”
“I heard what happened at school today,” I added softly, cringing when my eyes took in the sight of her hacked-up, shoulder-length bob. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“It’s okay,” she croaked out. Her hands were shaking. In fact, she looked about two seconds away from passing out on the floor.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ I asked, titling my head to the side in my bid to get her to meet my eye.
“Yes.”
“You don’t look okay.” Concern rose to life inside of me. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
More shouting filled the air, and I watched as she physically flinched. “You should go.” Her voice was small and pleading. “Now. Please.”
The door was yanked inwards then and a small blond boy grinned up at me. “Joey’s friend,” he said in delight. “The pretty girl.”
“Hi, Ollie,” I replied, smiling down at him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been doing?”
“I’m okay,” he replied, tone bright, seemingly oblivious to the very loud argument occurring behind the closed door at the far end of their hallway. “Are you here to play with Joey?” he asked them, all innocence and wide smiles.
“Ollie,” Shannon warned in a shaky tone. “Go back inside.”
“Yeah, I am,” I hurried to say. “Is he here?”
“Uh-huh,” Ollie replied, nodding dutifully, and causing Shannon to exhale a shaky sigh. “But he’s getting in trouble right now. You wanna come in and wait for him?”
It was the look of pure terror in his sister’s eyes that had me answering, “sure,” as I took a cautious step inside.
“Joe’s in big trouble again,” Ollie explained gesturing with his small hand to follow him into the sitting room. “It’s a bad one, this time.”
Bolting past me, Shannon hurried into the sitting room and scooped up a small bundle of what I first thought was a white blanket. Until the white blanket began to squawk and a small blond head popped out from behind said blanket.
“You have yourself a real cute baby on your hands,” I said, eyes locked on the wriggling infant in her arms, the one I remembered from the funeral.
“No, no, no,” she strangled out, as she rocked him in her scrawny little arms. “He’s not my baby.”
“That’s Sean,” Ollie explained, climbing onto the worn-looking couch and then patting the space next to him. “He’s the newest one of us.”
“He’s our brother,” Shannon clarified, as she tried to soothe the grizzly infant, who was refusing the bottle she was offering him.
“How old is he?” I asked, sinking down on the thread worn cushion.
“Who, Sean?” Bouncing him in her arms, she tucked a blond curl behind his tiny ear and said, “He just turned two.”
“Really?” I found it incredibly hard to believe that the infant in her arms was as old as two. He was dinky in size and reminded me more of twelve-month-old.
“I’ve gots four brothers,” Ollie added.
My eyes widened. “Four?”
“Yep, and one sister,” Ollie added proudly. “Darren’s the oldest, and then there’s Joe, Shannon, Tadhg, me, and Sean.”
“In case you haven’t guessed; he’s the one who can’t keep his mouth shut,” Tadhg interjected from his perch on the armchair opposite us. Flicking through channels with the remote control of the television in hand, he cast me a sideways glance before looking back at Shannon. “He’s going to flip.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Daddy,” Ollie said at the same time as Tadhg said, “Joey,” and Shannon said, “Nobody.”
“Acting the big hard man at school,” a dominant male voice roared, causing all of the children around me to flinch and cower. “You’re lucky they’re not going to the Gards with this. You’d be off the team permanently. Yeah, that’s right; they’ve suspended you from the team, too.”
“You think I give a shit about getting kicked off the hurling team?” I heard Joey’s strained laugh. “Get fucked, old man. That’s your dream, not mine.”
“Oh, you’re still riled up, are ya? Don’t worry, I’ll knock that out of you, boy.”
“What in god’s name is wrong with the pair of you? Why do you always resort to using your fists? Why can’t you stop being like this?” a woman’s voice cried out. “Why do you have to resort to violence at the drop of a hat?”
Uncomfortable, I looked at his siblings, who were all dutifully ignoring the shouting coming from the other room.
“It’s too much, Joey. I can’t handle you anymore, I really can’t.”
“Handle me? You don’t need to handle me. You don’t need to do shit for me, not that you do anyway. I’m grand as I am. And I was trying to protect my sister, if you’re so fucking concerned. She’s going to end up topping herself if you don’t get her out of that school. She can’t take any more of them.”
“And I can’t take any more of your behavior!”
“Then throw me out.”
“Don’t fucking tempt me, boy.”
“Get off him, Teddy!”
“Now, where the fuck is that sister of yours. She’s got a hand in this.”
A few moments later, the sitting room door was thrown open, and in walked a tall, formidable looking man.
Their dad, I mentally noted, recognizing the very obvious resemblance he bore to the children littered around the sitting room.
I also instantly recognized him as one of the meaner, sleazier drunks that propped up the bar at work when I worked the afternoon shift on weekdays. He never ordered food, so I never had to personally serve him, but I always got the creepiest vibe from him.
“Who’s this?” he demanded, balking at the sight of me sitting on his couch.
“This is Aoife,” Ollie said proudly, patting my shoulder with his small hand. “She’s my friend.”
“Teddy, wait,” a woman, who looked an awful lot like Shannon, called out, hurrying into the room after her husband. “Please, just wait…” Her voice trailed off when her eyes landed on me, and I swear I saw her sag in relief. “Oh, hello.”
“Hi,” I replied, quickly standing up. “I’m Aoife.”
“Aoife,” the mother repeated with a small nod of her head. Sliding the sleeve of her cardigan down in her attempt to conceal the cast on her arm, she forced a small smile and asked, “Are you friends with Shannon?”
Her husband snorted as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Take one look at her, Marie.” His dark eyes roamed over me in such a way that I felt uncomfortable. “She’s not here for the girl.”
“Then who…” the mother’s voice trailed off for a brief moment before she nodded her understanding. “Oh, you’re here for—”
“Me,” an achingly familiar voice said. “She’s here for me.”
“Joey,” I breathed, locking eyes on my furious looking classmate as he stood in the sitting room doorway.
“What are you doing here, Molloy?” His tone was hard, his eyes blazing with barely contained frustration, as blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow. “In my house?”
“You forgot your bag at school.” I held it up as by way of explanation, gaze honing in on his disheveled hair and the collar of his t-shirt that had been stretched out of shape. “I figured you might need it back.”
“You might as well toss that fucking thing away,” his father sneered, and the stench of whiskey wafting from the man was as obvious as the smell of cakes in a bakery. “Fat lot of use he gets out of it.”
“That was very kind of you,” his mother was quick to interject, taking the bag from me with her good hand. “Wasn’t that kind of her, Teddy?”
Uninterested, her husband grunted some semblance of a reply before snatching the remote out of Tadhg’s hand. “Up out of my chair, ya little shit,” he commanded, snapping his finger. “And bring me in my smokes.”
I watched as the older child scowled up at his father in such a way that he reminded me of his older brother, but then quickly clambered out of the armchair.
“Come on, Ols,” he grumbled, padding out of the room. “You can help me find an ashtray.”
“It was nice to see you,” Ollie chirped up at me, all brown eyes and innocence, before he climbed off the couch and hurried after his brother.
Yeah,” I squeezed out, heart fluttering around nervously, as I watched the little guy hurry out of the room. “You, too.”
Shannon, who looked like she had turned to stone on the mortal spot, blinked wildly before rushing from the room, mumbling something about Sean needing a drink as she went.
“Can I make you a cup of tea?” their mother offered, pulling on the sleeve of her cardigan, looking almost as uncertain as her daughter. Almost as frightened. “Or would you prefer coffee?”
“No, she’s not staying,” Joey answered instead, as he inclined his head towards the front door, never taking his eyes off me. “A word.”
“I, ah, better…” my voice trailed off as I watched the front door swing open and Joey stalk outside. “Go,” I finished, offering his mother a small smile before stepping around her and moving for the door.
“Thank you for bringing his bag home,” she called after me. “It really was very good of you.”
“No problem.” Offering her a hasty wave, I followed her son out of the house. “Bye.”
The minute I had stepped outside and closed the front door behind me, Joey was on me.
‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ he demanded in a hushed tone, clearly livid, as he paced around like a mad man. ‘Coming to my home like this?’ His green eyes blazed with a mask of anger, but I could see the absolute panic underneath, as his attention kept slipping to the front door behind me. “What were you thinking showing up here?”
“I was thinking that you forgot your bag and might need it,” I tossed back before reaching a hand up to touch his face. “Did he do that to your eye?“
‘Stay out of it,’ he bit out, snatching my hand up before I could touch him. “I mean it, Molloy.” Once again masking his fear with his temper, he met my eyes with a look of pure fury and pushed my hand away. ‘Stay out of my face and stay out of my fucking life!’
“Listen to me.” Closing the space he’d put between us, I reached for his hand, willing him to open up to me. “I know, okay? I get what’s happening here. Your dad’s a drunk, right?” With my thumb, I gestured behind me. “Gets a little handsy after a few too many glasses of Jameson?” I reached out to touch his shoulder. “Your back? Those scars—”
“You need to leave, Molloy,” Joey seethed, chest heaving, as he quickly stepped out of my reach again. “Now. I’m not fucking around here.” His gaze flicked to the house again and I could see the anxiety in his eyes. “You need to go,” he snarled, stalking down the driveway. “You need to go now, Molloy,” he added when he reached the garden wall. “Just fucking go. Please.”
‘I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me,’ I argued, not giving him an inch, as I stalked towards him and reclaimed the space that he had put between us.
The rain was pouring down on both of us, but I wasn’t walking away.
Not now that I knew.
Not ever again.
I had a decent life, and a relatively stable home life. Sure, my father had a roaming eye, which mean that my parents’ relationship was off more times than it was on, but neither he nor Mam were abusive to each other or to myself and Kev.
We didn’t have a whole pile of money behind us, and we depended on social housing like most of the families on our estate, but we weren’t lacking anything, and definitely not love. It was given unconditionally and came from an unlimited supply source.
Most importantly, they didn’t beat us or starve us, and we weren’t woken in the dead of the night to the sound of glass shattering or flesh pummeling flesh.
We weren’t afraid to speak our minds or launch an opinion for fear of physical retaliation like his mother and siblings so obviously were.
‘It’s okay, Joe,” I urged, imploring him to hear me, as I pushed my damp hair off my face. “I get it now.”
And I did.
Suddenly all of the aggression and mood swings began to make sense.
The drugs.
The fighting.
The vicious way he attacked both Paul and Kevin when he thought I was under threat.
It was like a raincloud had lifted in front of my eyes.
He wasn’t violent by nature.
He was violent because he wasn’t nurtured at home.
“I understand what’s happening here, and I’m on your side.’
‘You don’t know shit about what’s happening here,’ Joey warned, backing up another step when I reached up and touched the darkening bruise on his cheek. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Why not?’ I closed the space between us once more, pinning him to the garden wall. I reached up and let my fingers graze over the cut on his brow. ‘Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?’
‘No,’ he strangled out, shaking from head to toe, as he physically strained his body away from me. ‘I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
His words threw us both.
“Hurt me?” I repeated and quickly shook my head. “All you’ve ever done is look out for me, Joey Lynch. You would never hurt me.”
“I could,” he argued back, running a hand through his soaked hair. “I might.”
Wide-eyed and chest heaving, he watched me warily, waiting for my reaction.
Waiting for my rejection, I quickly realized.
“That’s not going to happen.” With my eyes locked on his, and my heart hammering wildly in my chest, I forced myself not to flinch. Not to turn away at the sight of his bruised face, or the dark circles under his eyes, as I whispered, ‘Because you’re not him.’
Joey stiffened. ‘You don’t know that, Molloy. You don’t know me. I break everything I care about. That’s what I do. I fuck it all up.”
My heart skipped about three dozen beats.
“It’s okay to let yourself care about me, Joe,” I whispered, knowing that I was treading on some very dangerous territory right now, but not having the self-control to fall back and retreat to safer surroundings.
Not when the only place I ever wanted to be seemed to be in the middle of one of his breakdowns.
‘Don’t do that.” His voice was gruff, green eyes full of dangerous heat. “Don’t look at me like I’m that guy, Molloy. Don’t look for hidden meanings in the things I say. I’m not the guy for you.” He shook his head and blew out a pained breath “I will break this…” he paused to gesture between us, before adding, “Whatever this is; this warped little friendship we’ve formed over the years? I will fuck it up.”
“But will you mean it?” I pushed, refusing to back off. “That’s the important part.”
“No.” His green eyes narrowed on me, studying me with a sharpness that was entirely unnerving and exhilarating all in one breath. “I won’t mean it, of course I won’t fucking mean it, but that won’t stop it from happening—“
His words broke off when I kissed him.
That’s right, I lost my head right there in the middle of his street, threw caution to the wind, and slammed my lips to his.
His entire frame froze for a long moment, stiff and unmoving, and I briefly wondered if I had made a terrible mistake, but then he was kissing me back, twisting our bodies around so that I was the one with my back to his garden wall, as his lips moved against mine with an air of expertise that was truly rattling.
My breath came hard and fast, leaving me feeling almost faint, as I swayed against his tall frame.
He wasn’t overly big or hugely muscular, even though I knew from watching enough of his fights that he was ridiculously strong.
Instead, he was lean, with muscles that were defined beneath his taut, tanned skin.
Reaching up, I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on to this boy for dear life, as I kissed him back with everything I had inside of me.
This was our first kiss, and it wasn’t the comet-hitting-earth moment I had anticipated from years of binge-watching unhealthy teen sitcoms.
It wasn’t anything like what happened in the movies.
It was so much more.
This kiss was real, and raw, and gritty, and so full of unspoken emotion that I felt my legs shake from the pressure.
His arms came around my body, with one hand resting on my hip, as he knotted the other in my hair, kissing me back with an intensity that caused jolting shocks of pleasure to ripple through my core every time his tongue brushed against mine.
Drowning in both my senses and the rain hammering down on us, I allowed myself to be completely swept up in the moment, in him.
Nothing else mattered to me in this moment.
All I could see, feel, taste, touch was him.
He was everywhere.
Consuming me entirely.
I had three and a half years’ worth of kisses with Paul, and a few other boys before him, to prepare me, but nothing could have prepared me for the feelings this particular boy evoked inside of me.
He could have had all of me right there in the rain and I wouldn’t have raised a finger in protest. That was how deep the dangerous feelings I had developed for him went.
Joey kissed me like he was starving for me and no one else’s lips could sate the hunger overtaking him. I knew the feeling and returned it unconditionally as I kissed him back with an insatiable hunger of my own.
With his lips never leaving me, he lifted me up with effortless ease and set me down on his garden wall. And then his hands were on my bare legs, his experienced fingers gliding over the smooth skin of my thighs, as he pushed them apart and stepped between them.
His hands were in my hair, his tongue in my mouth, his big body cemented to mine, all of his hard edges probing against my soft ones, and even though I knew I was a shitty person for not breaking up with Paul before kissing someone else, all I could think about was how epically right it felt to be with Joey.
This kiss was going to have consequences, I realized.
Huge, heart-stopping, feeling-igniting consequences.
