"Well, I think you and Gibsie together make sense," I pressed. "A lot more than Lizzie and Pierce."
"That wouldn’t be hard," Claire chuckled. "Me and Mr. Mulcahy make more sense than those two."
"True," I mused.
"So, here's what we'll do," she said then. "You can keep me focused and away from Gerard when we're in Donegal, and I'll do the same for you with Johnny."
I exhaled a shaky breath. "About that…"
"Go on," she urged.
Clenching my eyes shut, I blurted, "He dropped me home again."
"What?" Claire shrieked.
I blew out a breath. "I know."
"Oh my god, Shan, what's this about?"
"I really don’t know," I groaned, scrubbing my face with my hand. "I'm so confused."
"Confused?"
Deciding to give her full disclosure, I whispered, "He didn’t just drop me home, Claire. I went over to his house again."
"Shut the front door," she gasped.
Nodding, I groaned into my hand. "And I kissed him."
"Shut the front door!" she repeated, louder now, and in a much more excited tone. "Where did this happen?"
"In his bedroom," I confessed, and then reluctantly added, "On his bed."
"Oh. My. God," she squealed. "Oh my bloody god, Shan!"
"He didn’t kiss me back," I admitted, grimacing.
"That bloody idiot," she growled, tone switching instantly.
"I'm the idiot, Claire," I hurried to say, feeling just as mortified now as I was in his car on the drive of shame home. "What the hell was I thinking?"
"Was he mean to you?" she demanded. "Because I'll kick his big, rugby-loving ass if he was mean to you –"
"He wasn’t mean to me, Claire," I croaked out. "He was…lovely."
"No, Shannon, you're the lovely one. He's a dick," Claire corrected angrily. "Because only a complete dick takes my best friend to his house, brings her up to his bedroom, and then, when she puts herself out there for the first time in her life, he goes and rejects her."
"I kissed him, Claire," I whispered. "Not the other way around."
"And he clearly didn’t deserve your kiss," Claire snipped. "You're too good for the big eejit."
"I thought you liked Johnny?"
"I used to," she agreed angrily. "I used to think he was a good guy. I used to think he was better than that reputation of his," she growled. "Not anymore."
"It's my fault, Claire."
"No, Shan," she growled. "He led you on, and you deserve so much better than having some rugbyhead asshole do that."
"He really didn’t," I admitted. "It was all me."
"I don’t care," she snipped. "He's an eejit."
"What do I do now?" I asked, feeling unsure.
"What do you mean?"
"I have his jacket." I confessed. "I need to return it to him."
"Why do you have his jacket?"
"He gave it to me –" I paused before adding, "Actually this is the second one he's given me. He gave me his coat after school, too, but that one was soaked from the rain so he gave me another one."
"There you go," she snapped. "Leading you on!"
"I don’t think that's what he was doing," I argued weakly. "He was just being nice, Claire." Exhaling heavily, I added, "He's just a really good guy."
"Fine," she sighed, relenting on her anger a little. "Just give his coat back to him at school tomorrow and be done with the big ape."
"Okay," I replied, sad at the thought.
"He's a fool, you know," she added. "You're gorgeous, and kind, and sweet, and loyal, and a million other brilliant things he'll never find in whores like that Bella Wilkinson."
"Thank you," I replied, appreciating her attempt to console me. It wasn’t true, of course, but her words did help. "But you're not allowed to hate him because of this."
"Really?" she whined. "Really?"
"He didn’t do anything wrong, Claire," I pushed. "Seriously. He couldn’t have been nicer to me."
"Then why didn’t he kiss you back?" she demanded.
"Because he doesn’t want me," I bit out. "Obviously."
"Then he's insane," she grumbled. "If I had a penis or liked girls, I would want you."
"Thanks," I half sobbed/half laughed. "If I had a penis or liked girls, I'd want you, too."
"So, we're really not going to hate him?"
"No," I replied. "We're really not."
"Ugh," Claire groaned. "Fine."
"You're a great friend, Claire," I told her. "I don’t know what I'd do without you."
"Am I a great enough friend that I get the details?"
"What kind of details?" I asked nervously. "What do you want to know?"
"All the details," she replied.
Ugh.
"It's so embarrassing," I whispered. "Humiliating, actually."
"Okay, I'm sorry," she quickly replied. "You don’t have to talk about it."
"He's beautiful," I whispered after a pause.
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "Everybody already knows that."
"No, Claire," I urged. "I mean he's really beautiful." Closing my eyes, I whispered, "Under the clothes."
"Oh my god!" she screamed in my ear. "How do you know what's under his clothes?"
"Because he took a shower and he was only half dressed when I came out –"
"Came out of where?"
"His shower."
"Hold up!" Claire squeaked, "Did you take a shower with Johnny Kavanagh?"
"What – no!" I shook my head. "I took a shower in his shower."
"Okay, you need to take this back to the beginning because I'm losing the run of my filthy imagination here."
"We were both soaked from the rain," I explained with a weary sigh. "His Mam took my clothes down to dry them. I used the shower in his ensuite. He took a separate shower. And then we both just sort of ended up in his room."
"With no clothes on?"
"He had jocks on," I replied, resisting the urge to tell her about what I saw before he had his jocks on. "That's it."
"And you?" she pressed.
"Just a towel." I bit down on my lip, feeling my face flame with heat. "I think I flashed him my, uh, you know…. and I don’t really know how it happened, but we both ended up on his bed," I hurried to say, keeping my voice low. "And then he was right there, like his face was so close to mine…" Exhaling a ragged breath, I added, "And I just lost my mind and kissed him."
"God," Claire gasped. "It's like a watching a train wreck, except instead of watching it, I'm listening to it."
"I know," I groaned. "And then I panicked and locked myself in his bathroom." I cringed at the memory. "And he was so kind to me, Claire. I mean, he could have flipped out and thrown me out, but he just kept talking to me from the other side of the door, trying to coax me out –"
"Ugh, I can't," she moaned. "It hurts my heart too much."
"He promised he wouldn’t talk about it if I came out," I continued to talk despite her protests, needing to get this off my chest. "Of course, he lied. When were back in his car, he gave me the talk –"
"Not the talk," she breathed. "Please tell me he didn’t give you the talk."
"He did," I strangled out. "And then he kept telling me that I didn’t need to be sorry and I think he meant it, but I'm just so embarrassed by it all. I swear, I will never put myself out there like that for anyone ever again."
"Damn," Claire sighed. "I wish I didn’t have that stupid blitz tomorrow. I don’t want you being alone at school while you're feeling like this."
"Me too," I agreed glumly. "At least Lizzie will be there."
"Maybe don’t mention this to Liz," Claire interjected. "She'll cut his dick right off."
"No one can know about this, Claire," I whispered. "No one."
"Agreed."
I clutched my stomach when another stabbing pain ricocheted through me, causing me to grunt once more in pain.
"Hey – maybe you should take tomorrow off," she offered, sounding concerned. "You don’t sound too good."
"I'll be okay," I whispered.
And I would be.
I hoped.
49
I fucked up
Johnny
"Morning," Gibsie acknowledged, sinking into the passenger seat of my car on Tuesday morning. "How'd training go yesterday?"
"I fucked up!" I blurted out.
"You fucked up?" Gibsie arched a brow as he buckled himself in. "In training?"
"No." I shook my head. "I didn’t go."
"Why not?'
"Because I fucked up!"
"How?"