Unlike the huge, modern kitchen he'd taken me into last week, this wing of the house was traditional and almost, regal?
The entire upstairs landing was made up of stained hardwood flooring and gorgeous patterned wallpaper that was so clean and shiny that it looked like silk.
For all I knew about fabric and designs, it could have been.
This entire house and the boy holding my hand, reeked of money.
Lots and lots of money.
It was terrifying.
The floor creaked a little beneath our feet as we walked down the right wing of the house, passing no less than five other doors, until we reached the door I knew was his.
Johnny pushed the door inwards and walked us into his room, still holding my hand, still making my heart leap around violently.
Depressingly, he released my hand a few moments later, and the lack of contact made me feel oddly bereft.
"So, this is my room," he said with a smirk, waving a hand around the still-messy room. "Again."
"And it's still a nice room," I offered with a shy smile.
He grinned. "I'm not the best housekeeper."
I can tell.
Feeling achingly uncomfortable at just standing in the middle of his room, I walked over to the pile of DVDs next to his television, hoping I knew one of the titles so I could spark up some conversation instead of just standing here like a dummy.
My face burned with heat when I read the title on the DVD box on top of the pile – Pussy Pleasure XXX.
"Fuck," Johnny muttered when he noticed where I was looking. He hurried over and tossed the porno behind the TV. "That's ah…" Breaking off, he exhaled a heavy sigh and scrubbed his face with his hand. "Sorry about that. I don’t bring girls up here." He frowned for a moment before adding, "Except you."
Squirming uncomfortably, I replied, "Don’t worry about it."
"So," he mused.
"So," I whispered.
"This is pretty fucking strange," Johnny muttered.
"Yep," I agreed as a small smile crept across my face.
Johnny noticed my smile and grinned back at me. "Bet you didn’t plan on spending your evening stuck here, huh?"
"I really don’t mind," I told him, and surprisingly, I meant it.
Being here delayed going home to another night of drama.
And being here with Johnny was a good kind of terrifying.
I wanted to be here with him.
I wanted him, period.
"So," Johnny said again, shifting restlessly as he smoothed a hand down his thigh. "What do you want to do?"
"I don’t mind," I replied. "I'll do whatever you want to do?"
"Fuck." Johnny clenched his eyes shut and groaned.
"Oh god, are you okay?" I hurried to ask, well aware he was in pain.
"All good," he assured me in a tight tone.
"Are you sure?" I asked, uncertain again.
His blue eyes were wild and full of uncertainty when he said, "I'm kind of out of my comfort zone here, Shannon."
"Do you want me to go?"
He shook his head.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded slowly. "I want you to stay."
"Okay," I breathed.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I wrapped my arms around my middle and walked over to his enormous desk where mountains of school books lay unopen.
"You're a good student?" I asked, casting a glance over my shoulder.
"I'm decent," Johnny replied, trailing after me.
"No copy of Chicken Licken?"
Johnny laughed loudly. "No." Coming to stand behind me, he chuckled, "Definitely no Chicken Licken."
With my face on fire, I kept my attention on his desk, skimming my finger over the test papers and books as my gaze wandered to the cork board above the desk.
"Whoa, you've met a lot of famous people," I whispered, gaze flicking from photo to photo of Johnny with a range of different celebrities and athletes. "Which one of these guys is your hero?"
I presumed one was.
He was a teenage boy.
They all had heroes.
Johnny reached around me and pulled one of the photos off the board.
The tack holding it dropped onto his desk.
"See this one?" he asked as he stood behind me with his arm stretched around my body so I could see.
Breathe, Shannon, just breathe…
Forcing myself to concentrate on his question, and not the way my body was reacting to his close proximity, I stared down at the picture in his hands.
"I see," I whispered, gazing down at the one photograph that didn’t seem to have a celebrity in it.
I immediately recognized the stunning blonde laying on the picnic blanket on the grass as a younger version of Mrs. Kavanagh.
She had huge sunglasses covering her eyes and a big, white, floppy hat perched on her head as she beamed up at a man.
The man in question – a beautiful man who looked just like an older version of Johnny – was standing over her and on his shoulders sat a small, dark haired boy of no more than five or six.
The little boy was dressed in a light blue and white striped jersey and white shorts.
His hair was cocking up in forty different directions, and he was holding a rugby ball proudly above his head and grinning this huge, double dimpled, toothless smile.
"This is my favorite picture," Johnny said, stirring me from my thoughts. He tapped the photo. "And he's my hero."
"Your Dad?" I whispered, eyes glued to the photo. "That's you with your Mam and Dad?"
"Yeah," Johnny replied. "In all our glory."
"And it's your favorite photo because it's of you and your parents?"
Johnny shrugged and the movement caused his hard chest to brush against my back. "That's partly why it's my favorite."
I shivered involuntarily.
"What's the other part?" I whispered.
"Because it's real."
"Real?"
"Innocent. Good. Pure. Before the limelight," he explained. "When all that mattered to me was a ball and my folks."
"Oh," I breathed, staring down at what looked like the happiest little boy in the world. "Well, you were a gorgeous child."
"Was?" Johnny quipped. "As in, I'm not anymore?"
"Uh, no – I mean yes, of course –I didn’t – um, you have all your teeth now," I spluttered, feeling flustered and foolish for voicing my thoughts aloud.
Johnny chuckled at my response. "I'm only messing with you, Shannon."
Embarrassed, I set the picture down on the desk and stepped around him, needing to put some space between us.
I couldn’t think when I was this close to him.
"You play GTA?" I asked then, eyeing the PlayStation box on the floor with excitement.
"Yeah." Johnny eyed me curiously, "Do you?"
I nodded. "I'm awesome."
He cocked a brow. "Is that so?"
"Uh-huh." I was terrible at most things in life, but I kicked ass at GTA. "Joey has Vice City and San Andreas and I've cleared both games."
His brows shot up.
"In a week."
His mouth fell open. "No."
"Oh yeah." I nodded, smiling proudly. "I'm the best."
Johnny tilted his head to one-side, giving me a curious smile. "Do you want to play a game?"
I smirked. "If you want?"
He grinned. "You think you're that good?"
"I know I am," I replied, and for once in my life, I had the confidence to say that.
It didn’t say much about me as a person when all I excelled at in life was kicking ass on GTA, but it was better than nothing.
"Well, little girl, you better put your money where your mouth is," Johnny shot back with a smirk. "Because I'm the best."
I snorted. "It's on, little boy."
Johnny shook his head, clearly amused with my smack talk, and then hurried over to set up the game.
"No memory cards," he called over his shoulder. "Start from scratch, and the person who completes the most missions before dying is the winner – and girls first."
"That'll be me," I replied, accepting the controller he held out to me.
"Because you're a girl?"
"Because I'm the best."
"Do you, uh–" Johnny scratched his head and gestured to his bed. "Want to do this here?"
"On your bed?" I squeaked.
He shrugged, looking as uncertain as I felt. "Or the bean bags, if you prefer?"
"Uh, yeah, okay," I replied. I walked over to the leather bean bags laying side by side, only to hesitate and swing back to look at him. "If you want me to –"
"Sit your ass down, little Lynch, so I can beat you," Johnny interrupted me, tone laced with amusement.