And a smile.
And those fucking midnight blue eyes – which I didn’t think was a good enough word to describe the color.
They should have been called soul blue because they were deep as fuck and sucked a person right in…
And then she went and dropped her books.
They scattered on the ground and Shannon bent over to pick them up, causing her skirt to rise up way too fucking high.
Two smooth, pale thighs filled my vision, sending a surge of red flags shooting up in my brain and wave of heat to flush through my body.
"Ah shite," I muttered under my breath, caught off-guard by both the sight of her and my body's explosive reaction to the sight of her.
Dropping my gaze, I inhaled a few steadying breaths, desperately trying to regain control of my problematic dick.
"What's wrong?" Gibsie asked, looking around us for the source of my obvious discomfort.
"Nothing," I muttered, running an aggravated hand through my hair. "Let's go."
Gibsie, noticing my obvious issue, threw his head back at my reaction and howled laughing.
"Do you have a –holy shit, you do!" he choked out through fits of laughter. "And you're blushing!" He clapped me on the shoulder and snorted loudly. "Ah, lad, I love it."
"It's not my fault," I snarled as I thundered off in the direction of the changing rooms, walking like the rhinestone fucking cowboy. "I can't control it these days."
Ploughing into the changing rooms, I stripped off my clothes and went straight for the showers with the intention of burning the pain and discomfort out of my system.
It didn’t work.
My body was still in excruciating pain and I was still sporting a solid three-quarters.
Dropping my head, I stared down at the lower half of my body and debated my options.
But I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t touch my own damn dick.
I was too freaked out.
Vivid memories of that horrific trip to the emergency room and the god-awful warnings the doctors had given me at Christmas had officially screwed with my head.
Jesus, I was a goddamn mess.
Leaning my forehead against the tiled wall, I allowed the scalding water to wash over me while I waited for what felt like an eternity for my problem to resolve itself, biting down on my knuckles to bury my groans of pain.
Well if it wasn’t clear before that I needed to keep my distance, it certainly was now.
I had to stay away from that girl.
Christ…
"Feeling better?" Gibsie snickered when I finally walked back into the changing room, with a towel around waist.
We were still alone in here, thank god, since the rest of the team were catching up on laps.
Ignoring the quip, I turned my back to him and dropped my towel.
Before the surgery, I wouldn’t have thought twice about walking around bollocks naked in front of anyone.
Now, not so much.
Because aside from needing to keep my problem on the down-low, I was self-conscious.
It was yet another new and unwelcome feeling.
I had always been proud of my body. I had been blessed with natural muscle retention and physical strength, and I paid for every ab on my stomach with a grueling training regime.
I worked damn hard to keep myself in peak physical condition, but the purple balls, swollen sac, and oozing scar wasn’t something I wanted anyone to see.
Not even myself.
Which was why I didn’t look down when I pulled on a pair of clean jocks.
In my current state of frantic panic, denial was a river in Egypt and if I just kept plugging on, it would get better, because the alternative was not an option.
Giving in was not an option.
More time off was not an option.
Missing the summer campaign with the U20's was not an option.
Losing my spot on the starting squad because of weakness was not a fucking option.
Play and slay was my only option because I refused to crash and burn at seventeen.
"Are you alright, Johnny?" Gibsie asked, breaking the built-up silence.
His tone, for once, was serious which was why I responded with a clipped nod.
"Ready to talk about it yet?"
"Talk about what?"
"Whatever the hell it is that's been driving you demented since we came back from Christmas break."
"Nothing's bothering me," I replied, pulling my school trousers up my thighs. I buckled my belt and reached for my shirt.
"Bullshit," he countered.
"I'm grand," I added, quickly snapping my buttons back in place.
"You've been like a bear with a sore head since coming back to school after Christmas," he grumbled. "And don’t tell me it's because of your surgery because I know there's more to it–"
My phone began to ring then, distracting us both.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled it out, checked the screen, and then resisted the urge to fling it at the wall.
"Fucking Bella," I grumbled, canceling the call and tossing my phone back in my bag.
Gibsie grimaced. "What's going on there?"
"Nothing," I replied. "It's done with."
"Does Bella know that?"
"She should," I replied flatly. "She's the one who ended it."
"Yeah?"
"Yep." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhaled a calming breath before adding, "She's fucking around with Cormac Ryan now."
"And you're okay about it?"
"Don’t give a fuck if I'm being honest, lad," I replied flatly. "I'm more relieved than anything."
Gibsie shook his head. "You sure? You were messing around with her for a long time."
"I was done a long time ago, Gibs," I admitted. "Trust me, lad, all I want her to do is leave me the hell alone."
"Well, if that's true then it's the best news I've heard all year," Gibsie declared. "Because I honest to god cannot stomach that girl. She's a dangerous fucking female. I was half afraid you'd end up getting her pregnant and we'd be stuck with her for life."
"No chance of that happening," I told him as I repressed a shudder. "I always wrap my shit."
"She's a needle-in-a-condom type, lad," Gibsie shot back. "And you're a shining beacon of light for those girls –with a huge, neon, euro sign hanging over your head."
"I pull out," I shot back. "Always."
"Every time?"
"Why are you asking me about my sexual health?" I deadpanned.
Gibsie grimaced. "Because she's dirty."
"Gibs, you don’t say shite like that about a girl," I warned. "It's not on."
"I'm not saying that about just any girl." He shrugged and added, "I'm saying it about that girl."
"Well, I'm fine," I bit out. "Had my tests last month and I'm clean as a whistle."
"Thank god." He sighed, looking relieved. "Because she–"
"Can we not talk about her anymore?" I interrupted, thoroughly sickened at the thought of her. "I'm tired of hearing about her, Gibs."
"Okay, but let me ask you one more question," he replied. "Just one and I'll drop it."
I sighed wearily and waited for him to speak, knowing that it didn’t matter whether I agreed or not.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you relieved Bella ended whatever the fuck you'd call what you two were doing because you were tired of Bella?" He studied my face for a few moments before adding, "Or because you're into the girl?"
His question caused me to pause mid-button. "The girl?"
"Yeah, the girl."
"What girl?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"The fucking girl, Johnny," Gibsie growled, throwing his hands up. "The one you knocked out. The one I took a molesting off Dee for so I could get her file. The one you spend your days swapping gooey eyes with at school."
"Gooey eyes?" Pulling my jumper down over my stomach, I stepped into my shoes. "What the hell are gooey eyes?"
"Swooning eyes," Gibsie snapped, exasperated now. "Smoldering gazes. Fuck me looks. I want to eat your pussy signals." He shook his head and reached for a can of deodorant out of his gear bag. "Whatever you want to call them."