"Okay, Johnny," I breathed, leaning my cheek into his large palm.
Without another word, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead.
And then he turned around and walked away.
Reeling, I watched him until he disappeared into the clubhouse and then I walked back to my friends.
Confused was an understatement for how I was feeling.
The sheer depth of my feelings for him was unhealthy.
The adoration, the lust, the downright infatuation I had for him…it was insanity.
I had never felt this much.
I had never felt so consumed.
60
Cupid's Chokehold
Johnny
If feelings were objects, then I was teetering on the edge of a great precipice, and if girls were weapons, then Shannon Lynch was the greatest weapon of mass destruction my heart had ever been exposed to.
Because I was fucked.
I didn’t bother denying it anymore.
There was no point.
I had never felt this much for another person in my entire life.
It took every ounce of self-control I had inside of my body to walk away from her back there.
Especially when everything inside of me demanded I snatch her away from the world and keep her all to myself.
"I need you to stay safe out there, okay?"
Yeah, at this stage, it was safe to say I was thoroughly fucked when it came to that girl.
I couldn’t do this anymore.
I couldn’t fight my feelings.
Just like that game on the PlayStation, she was kicking my ass.
When she told me about the bullying, something I regrettably already knew, I felt something snap inside of me.
It felt the last piece of my resolve evaporating.
The vulnerability I had seen in her eyes when she exposed her secrets for my benefit was my breaking point.
Girls I knew didn’t do that.
They didn’t act like Shannon.
If Gibsie hadn't come over, I would have kissed her.
I knew I would have.
I already knew what those lips felt like.
I wanted so badly to taste them again.
I would taste them again.
I was starving for her and everything she was.
Every part of her.
Inside and out.
I wanted to fight all her battles. I wanted to give her all her smiles and make her laugh and snatch her away from the rest of the world and keep her all to myself.
I just wanted her.
For keeps.
I knew that was incredibly selfish of me, and I knew that I was probably going to end up fucking up everything and breaking her heart, but the problem was, my heart was involved, too.
I needed to talk to her tonight because I needed to lay it out there.
I couldn’t go another day without getting it off my chest.
Months of wanting, lusting, and pining after her had left me at a point where I couldn’t see straight anymore.
Because I had caught feelings for Shannon.
Huge fucking feelings.
Permanent ones.
I knew I was too old for her.
I knew she was too sweet and pure to be dragged into the limelight that came with my life.
And I knew that she was too fucking broken for a guy like me to get tangled up with.
But I already felt like I was drowning with her.
That's how consumed I was in this girl.
That's how much I loved her.
Fuck.
61
Breathe, Shannon, just breathe
Shannon
Everyone from Royce College sucked.
Seriously, they were pathetic.
The game was delayed for over two hours because the coaches from Royce threw a very public hissy fit over Johnny playing.
It was embarrassing.
Two hours of standing around in the rain, while the coaches from Royce tried everything in their power to have Johnny pulled from the cards.
They were ranting and raving about how it was unfair to have an Irish international playing in the league.
This was a school rugby game.
Johnny was a student from one of the schools.
He was a minor.
He was entitled to play if he wanted to.
There were no rules being broken by Tommen.
Finally, after several phone calls to the board, an embarrassing and very public bringing out of the rule book, and countless screaming matches between Coach Mulcahy and Royce's head coach, the teams took to the pitch at half past six – with Johnny sauntering onto the field in his number 13 jersey, wearing a shit-eating smirk on his face.
Early on in the game, it became clear why the Royce coach was so against letting Johnny play.
His team was terrible.
Well, maybe not terrible, but they were no match for a fired-up Tommen side.
How they managed to draw second on the table with Tommen was beyond me, because there truly was no competition.
The sheer volume of pride that roared to life inside of me watching him take on his old friends and kick their asses was scary.
I was ridiculously wrapped up in this boy and found myself screaming and cheering for him on the sidelines, ignoring the death glares I received from Bella and her friends.
I didn’t care.
I was so proud of him.
By half-time, Tommen were up 48-3.
Five minutes before the end of the game and it looked even worse for Royce, with Tommen securing three more tries in the second half.
Everything was going Tommen's way until the final play of the game.
With less than a minute to go, Johnny stripped one of Royce's forwards of the ball.
It seemed to be his thing: delivering the final blow in the last minute of the game.
With speed unmatched by anyone else on the pitch, Johnny ploughed down the field, chasing the last score of the game.
It was a blur of movements that resulted in him grounding the ball seconds before a stampede of opposition players crushed him.
The try was awarded.
The team began to celebrate.
But he wasn’t getting back up.
Claire's brother, Hughie, moved into position in front of the posts and quickly kicked the conversion over, securing the win, before rushing over to Johnny– who still wasn’t getting up.
"Claire," I croaked, gripping my friend's arm as I watched on in horror as our classmates and peers celebrated around us. "Is he moving?"
Everyone from our school was cheering and clapping, the lads on the team were hugging each other in celebration, but Johnny was still slumped face-down behind the try line.
Hughie, along with several players from Royce College, were knelt beside him.
One of them was waving his hand at the coaches on the side line.
Another one was roaring at the referee.
Hughie was calling for Coach Mulcahy.
"Claire," I repeated, panicked. "What's happening?"
"I don’t know!" she strangled out, sounding equally panicked now.
A swarm of black and white jerseys came running in their direction then, flocking their captain.
I jumped up, my feet moving of their own accord, and pushed through the crowd.
"Is he dead?" I screamed, hand still entwined in Claire's who was following close behind me. "Oh my god, Claire, is he dead?"
"No, no, no," she kept repeating, but she didn’t sound sure.
"Claire!"
"I don’t know, Shannon," she cried out.
We didn’t make it far, only getting to the edge of the pitch before being swallowed up in the throngs of other students.
Jumping, I tried to see above their shoulders, but I was too short.
Thinking fast I dropped to my knees and peeked between their legs.
Johnny was still on the ground.
Face down.
Unmoving.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted two men in yellow bibs run onto the pitch with a stretcher in tow.
Time seemed to stand still then, as I watched them kneel beside Johnny and set to work on moving him onto the stretcher.
The screaming and cheering had turned to hushed whispers as everyone watched on.
My heart, that seemed to have been on pause in my chest for the last few minutes, slammed wildly against my ribcage when Johnny slowly sat up.
His eyes were open, his chest was moving, and though he looked like he was in a great deal of pain, he was alive.
He was shaking his head and pushing away all offers of being lifted onto the stretcher.
I couldn’t hear what was being said, but his lips were moving at a rapid rate as he continued to shake his head and bark something to the medics.