Very rejected.
I was intimidated, not because he was scary, he wasn’t, or at least I didn’t find him scary. I'm sure he terrified the guys he played, but that's not what was happening here.
Not for me.
No, I was intimidated because he looked like that and I was infinitely inferior.
Whatever spark of hope I had in my heart quenched out.
He would never look at me when he could have the likes of Bella at his disposal.
They matched.
He was suited with her.
Someone who looked like a page three model.
Someone who looked like a woman worthy of that.
I was a teenage girl with a bad case of lust.
"Fucking finally," Johnny muttered, dragging out a rectangular box of ibuprofen from the side pocket of his bag.
He popped two small tablets out from the foil encasement then held them out to me.
Clumsily, I tried and failed to take the tablets from his fingers.
Flushed, I tried again and again, failing miserably until I managed to knock them out of his hands altogether.
"Relax," he encouraged, stooping down to scoop up the pills. I watched him wipe them on the front of his hoodie and then he blew my mind with three words, "Open your mouth."
I gaped. "I can do it."
"You obviously can't," he shot back, smirking. "Open your mouth."
I sat there stumped for several long beats before finally opening my mouth.
He dropped the two small pills on my tongue and winked.
Reaching into his bag, he thrust a capped bottle of water into my hands and said, "Drink."
I did.
Like a well-trained dog, I did exactly what he told me to.
Annoyed with myself for being so compliant, and then annoyed even further for being pissed with a boy who was clearly taking time out of his lunch break to help me, I swallowed the tablets and sighed.
I waited for Johnny to stand up and tell me he needed to go back to his friends, but he didn’t.
He just sat there with me while the pain relief took effect.
He didn’t mock or run.
He didn’t react in the way most boys would.
He took control of the situation.
I knew right there that he was exceptionally special and that it had nothing to do with his sporting capabilities.
He was exceptional on the inside, too.
"Do you need to go back for lunch?" I croaked out. "I'll be okay in a bit–"
"I'm happy to stay," Johnny quickly cut me off by saying. He rubbed his neck with his hand and said, "I like the peace and quiet."
So, we sat.
We sat and said nothing.
Not one single word.
I was feeling a multitude of emotions right now, ranging from shame to mortification to fear, but with every minute that passed, I slowly calmed down.
Several long minutes of unspoken silence passed between us when Johnny finally broke it by clearing his throat. "How's it now?"
"Not as bad," I whispered, relieved with the speed in which the medication was working. "I don’t feel like I'm being stabbed by a thousand blunt knives anymore."
He frowned in horror and I shook my head, annoyed at myself for once again disclosing too much information to him.
"I don’t know shite all about what's going on with your, uh, your body," he added, cheeks turning pink. "But I hope it fucks off soon."
His words, so crass and boyish, yet sincere and caring, caused a small laugh to crack through my nervousness.
"I don’t think it works that way," I replied, forcing myself to look him in the eye. "But thanks for helping me."
"Have to say, it's a first for me." He frowned at the thought before muttering, "Thank fucking god."
"Oh, god, I'm sorry." I jumped up to leave, but he caught a hold of my hand, pulling me back down on the bench.
"I don’t want you to be sorry," he said gruffly. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I just meant that I don’t have any sisters so this shite is foreign to me."
"I bet," I mumbled, embarrassed.
Did he think of me as a sister?
It certainly sounded like he did.
He certainly reacted to my kiss like he did.
Had I been sister-zoned?
"Stop overthinking," Johnny instructed in a coaxing tone, distracting me from my internal battle. "Everything's fine."
I turned to look at him. "What makes you think I'm overthinking?"
He shrugged, smiling this amazing boyish grin at me. "Am I wrong?"
No.
No, of course he wasn’t.
Overthinking was my specialty.
Dammit.
"I can't help it," I admitted, feeling my face heat up. "It's in my nature. I'm a born worrier."
"Well," he sighed. "One thing you don’t need to worry about is Bella."
The minute I heard her name, I automatically began to worry.
Worry and overthink.
What would she say next?
What would she do?
Was I going to get a hiding from her the next time she caught me in the bathrooms?
Should I run now?
"Stop," Johnny ordered, intercepting my panic. "You don’t need to worry about her." He leaned back against the wall and hooked his hands together on his lap. "If she even thinks about coming at you again, I'll know about it and I'll sort it."
"She has your jacket," I blurted out. "I washed it and brought it to school to give it back to you, but she, uh, took it off me."
"I have plenty more jackets," he replied. "I'm just sorry she gave you shite over me. That shouldn’t have happened to you. I'd tell you that she's psychotic, but you've probably already figured that out on your own."
"She's mad about you, Johnny," I told him, voice small.
And so am I…
"She's mad about my lifestyle," he corrected with a heavy sigh. "She doesn’t even know me, Shannon."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm a prize to her. A shiny trophy," he muttered under his breath. "That's all I am to most people."
"Not to me," I told him.
Johnny looked at me.
I forced myself not to turn away.
"No?" I could see frustration and hope flashing around in his blue eyes.
"No," I confirmed quietly.
"Well, that's good to know," he replied, blue eyes locked on mine, tone gruff.
"I'm really sorry for what I did last night," I whispered, forcing myself to address the elephant in the room.
"Shannon." Johnny leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and sighed heavily. "There's nothing to be sorry for."
"There is," I mumbled. "I shouldn’t have done that." Shaking my head, I resisted the urge to bolt, choosing instead to be a grown up about the situation. Tricky thing to do given my age and rampant emotions around this boy, but I did it. "It won't happen again."
"I don’t want you to be sorry, Shannon," he replied gruffly.
I exhaled shakily. "You don’t?"
He shook his head slowly. "No."
And just like that, the air changed around us.
"I should probably go," I whispered, quickly breaking the tension.
I stood up before I did something stupid, like kiss him.
Oh wait, I already did that.
Ugh...
"There's a bus going my route at 2 o clock with my name on it."
And if I get home before six, I won't have to deal with my Dad.
Johnny frowned. "You're not going back to class?"
I shook my head. "No, I need to go home and uh, sort myself out."
"Yeah, uh, right," he muttered. "Of course." He checked his watch and said, "It's quarter to two now," before turning his gaze back on me. "I'll drive you."
I opened my mouth to say no, but Johnny got there first.
"I want to take you home," he told me. "I need to make sure you're okay."
"Why?"
"I just do." Standing up, Johnny reached for my bag and tossed it over his shoulder before turning to look at me. "Let me take you home, Shannon."
Don’t do it, Shannon.
Don’t put yourself through it again.
And don’t you dare get your hopes up.
I blew out a ragged breath. "Yeah, okay."
51
Losing the run of myself
Johnny
Shannon was in my car again.
So much for not bulldozing.
They might as well slap a JCB sticker on my forehead and switch on my hazards, I seemed to do so much of it around this girl.
And I was nervous – so much that my stupid fucking heart could have been a strong contender for Olympic gold in boxing, it was thumping around so hard in my chest.