I enjoy being with you.
"I'm on the winning team," I teased, nudging his shoulder with mine. "Of course, I'm enjoying this."
"True," Johnny agreed with a lopsided grin. Pulling the stack of certificates we had collected throughout the day's tasks out of his bag, he plopped them on my lap and said, "We make a pretty good team, Shannon like the River."
Yes.
Yes, we did.
I waited for everyone else to climb off the bus before sliding out of my seat.
"Good luck today," I said as I hovered in the aisle, watching Johnny as he rummaged through the discarded bags at the back of the bus, clearly searching for his own.
"Huh?" Johnny replied, obviously distracted, as he muttered something about messy bastards under his breath.
He looked stressed.
The closer we got to Royce College, the more agitated he grew.
Now that we were here, Johnny was vibrating with tension.
I understood why.
He was supposed to go to school here, which meant he would more than likely be playing against his old friends and teammates.
That was a lot of pressure.
And he was hiding an injury.
"The match," I clarified. "I hope you win." I gave him a small wave before hurrying down the aisle towards the exit, desperate to put some much-needed space between Johnny Kavanagh and my heart.
"Shannon?" Johnny called after me.
Pausing at the door, I swung back to look at him. "Yeah?"
His blue eyes burned holes inside of me when he said, "Thanks."
"For what?" I whispered.
Johnny smiled. "For being nothing like the rest of them."
"Uh, okay?"
"I'll see you in a bit, okay?"
I nodded. "Bye Johnny."
Feeling off kilter, I hurried off the bus where I was immediately intercepted by both Shelly and Helen.
Hooking their arms through mine, they led me away from the bus.
"Girl, you have some explaining to do," Shelly said excitedly.
"And we want all the details," Helen agreed with a nod.
"Details?" I asked, feeling flushed by their ambush. "About what?"
"Don’t even think about it," Helen warned. "You just spent three hours up close and personal with Johnny."
"I didn’t have a choice," I replied. "The seat next to his was the only one left."
"What did you talk about?" Shelly asked, eyes dancing with excitement. "What did he say to you?"
"I don’t know." I shrugged, feeling awkward. "Just stuff."
"Just stuff?" Helen spluttered.
"Shannon, I am trying to live vicariously through you here. You've got to give me more than 'just stuff'," Shelly huffed.
"Back off, vultures," Lizzie barked. "Go and find another carcass to fight over."
She was leaning against the back of the bus, with a huge boy standing in front of her.
I instantly recognized him as Pierce.
I decided that they had to be back on again when I took in the sight of her hands on his waist, and the way he was nuzzling her neck.
Claire, Gibsie, Hughie, Coach Mulcahy, and Patrick Feely were standing close by, though they weren't paying any attention to us.
In fact, they all seemed to be in a debate over something as they circled Coach Mulcahy.
"Lizzie!" Shelly whined. "I was only asking."
"If you want to know what Johnny Kavanagh talks about then go and ask Johnny Kavanagh," Lizzie shot back. "Not Shannon." Turning her gaze on me, she said, "Come on, Shan. We're over here."
Grateful for her interruption, I slid out from between the gossip girls, gave them a quick wave, ignored their disappointed expressions, and then hurried over to my friends.
The closer I got to my friends, the louder the discussion between the others seemed to get.
"He's playing, Coach," Hughie was snarling. "They can't do this."
"I agree, Biggs," Coach replied with a phone to his ear. "This crap won't stand – Hello, yes, I would like the speak to the principal." With his mobile welded to his ear, Coach hurried off, barking orders into the phone.
"What a pack of langers," Gibsie tossed out angrily.
"Pussies," Hughie agreed.
"To be fair," Patrick Feely mused, "the team seems willing to play. It's their coach with the issue."
"Issue?" I asked, sidling up to Claire because Lizzie's mouth was currently being occupied by Pierce's tongue. "What's going on? Is the match cancelled?"
"Royce's coach is refusing to allow his team to play if Coach plays Johnny," Claire explained, looking as enraged as everyone else.
"What?" I gaped at her. "Why?"
"Because they're a pack of fucking cowards who are too scared to play against him?" Gibsie offered, tone laced with sarcasm. "Eejits."
"So, what – they're trying to punish him for being a good player?" I asked, quite frankly shocked.
"I think it has more to do with being a player with fifteen caps for Ireland, Shan," Hughie responded.
"Caps for Ireland?"
"The amount of times he's played for his country," he quickly explained.
"So, what?" I shot back defensively. "He earned every one of those. They weren't handed to him."
"I'm not arguing with you," Hughie replied, chuckling. "It just intimidates some coaches."
"What's going on?" Johnny's voice filled my ears, moments before he came to stand beside me.
His arm brushed against mine and even though there were several layers of clothing between us, my skin still broke out in goosebumps.
"The usual shit," Gibsie informed him. "They won’t play if you're playing."
Johnny shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, well."
I turned to look at him, stunned by his lack of response.
"This happens a lot," Johnny, noticing my expression, quickly explained, "Coach will get it sorted," before turning to the boys and saying, "round up the lads in the changing room. Tog out and we'll get started on warm ups."
Nodding, both Hughie and the other boy jogged off in the direction of the clubhouse, calling fellow teammates as they went.
"Johnny, lad, this could take hours to clear up," Gibsie groaned.
With all traces of his earlier vulnerability long gone, Johnny said, "Then we'll have hours of practice. Now move your ass."
"Say a prayer for me," Gibsie told Claire. He then dove towards her and smacked a loud, smoochy kiss on her cheek before jogging away.
"Ew, Gerard!" Claire called after him, wiping her flushed cheek with her sleeve.
"Pierce," Johnny snapped, turning his attention to the shaved-headed boy with his tongue down my friend's throat. "Get out of the girl and onto the pitch."
Muttering something about captain cockblock under his breath, Pierce pressed one final kiss to Lizzie's lips before sprinting off towards the team.
Johnny inclined his head towards me. "You okay?"
I nodded.
He reached up and tucked a rogue strand of hair behind my ear then whispered, "I'll see ya later," and then turned around and sprinted off to join his teammates.
Wow, I thought to myself, determination flows through that boy's veins just as potently as the terror that flows through mine.
"Johnny?" I called after him, unable to stop myself.
When he stopped running and turned back to face me, I hurried to close the space between us, not stopping until I was right in front of him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning down at me in confusion.
"Nothing, I just–" Shaking my head, I reached up and cupped his neck, pulling his face down to mine. Pressing up on my tip-toes, I whispered in his ear, "I need you to stay safe out there, okay?" Resisting the urge to fold myself into him, I released his neck and stepped back. "Be careful." I took another step back, eyes locked on his. "Okay?"
Johnny nodded slowly, blue eyes heated. "Okay."
"Bye, Johnny," I whispered and then turned around.
Johnny caught my hand and pulled me back to face him.
"You'll come home with me tonight?" he asked gruffly, eyes burning with heat, as he fiddled with that rogue strand of hair of mine. "You still want to do that?"
"Yeah," I whispered, stepping closer, unable to resist the urge to knot my fingers in his shirt. "I do."
"Shannon, I'm so…" He exhaled a sharp breath and shook his head. "Tonight." His hand moved from my hair to cup my cheek. "We'll talk tonight."