Dirty looks from half a dozen girls at the table all directed at me and I was done for the night.
Releasing a low growl, I ran my hand through my hair and staggered out of the barmaid's way as she shoved past me with a dustpan and brush.
Stalking outside, I dragged my phone out of my jeans pocket and called for a taxi, relieved as hell when the voice on the other end said five minutes.
I needed out of here and far away from my poor decisions.
The poorest of those being that dangerous fucking girl I'd tangled myself up with.
In this moment, I was glad my body was broken.
I was glad that I hadn't been able to have sex since Halloween.
Maybe it was fate?
Without my cock blinding my ability to make good choices in lieu of pussy, I was able to see through Bella's fa?ade.
And it wasn’t pretty.
Knowing that I would rather peel my skin off than touch her again gave me some semblance of comfort.
Never again, Johnny.
Never a-fucking-again, lad.
Leaning against the wall of the pub, I allowed my thoughts to wander back to those lonesome eyes.
I wanted to see those eyes.
And the girl they belonged to.
The alcohol running through my veins provided a block on my conscience, making it easier for me to obsess about Shannon Lynch without feeling like a piece of shite.
Tomorrow, when I woke up with a clear head, I would no doubt feel every ounce of the implications of my wayward thoughts, but for now, while I was temporarily void of a moral compass, I envisioned all the terrible fantasies in great, colorful detail.
It was nice.
She was nice to think about.
She was fucking beautiful.
Her voice.
Her hair.
Her smell.
The way she spoke.
Every single part of her.
I was deep in thought, contemplating how different it would have been had it been Shannon who put her mouth on me, when the sound of the taxi honking distracted me.
"Johnny, lad," the taxi driver, whose name I never seemed to be able to remember, called out in a happy tone. "How's it going?" To be fair, on the rare occasion our paths had crossed, I had been drunk off my tits. "Your pal not with you tonight?"
By pal, he meant Gibsie.
Because Gibsie was usually the influencer behind terrible decisions like the one I made tonight.
"He's still inside," I explained, using every ounce of concentration to not stagger as I pushed off the wall. "Thanks for coming so fast, man."
"Like I'd leave you here, boyo," he chuckled. "Don’t forget your old friend Paddy when you're up in the big smoke with the big boys."
I couldn’t remember my old friend Paddy now, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
"Johnny – wait up, lad!" Hughie Biggs, called out as he stumbled out of the pub towards me. Grabbing my arm, he pulled me to a stop. "You'll have to take us with you."
"Who's us?" I replied slowly. "If you're talking about that crazy fucking girl then forget it, Hughie. She's not my responsibility, and I'd rather cut my cock off than go back inside and deal with her."
"Who – Bella?" Hughie frowned and shook his head. "No, man. Fuck her. She's already gone back to Cormac. He was hiding in the lounge all night. Didn’t come out until you were gone, the coward." He dragged me over to the window and pointed inside. "You can't leave them here."
My gaze flicked from Hughie to Gibsie, who was currently face down on the table, snoring his head off, to Patrick Feely, who was being molested by one of Bella's friends, to Bella, who was dry-humping Cormac Ryan, and then back to Hughie.
"Why me?" I groaned.
"Because we're your babies," Hughie announced, leaning his weight on me.
"My babies?" I slurred. "How the fuck are you three anyone's babies?"
"You're our captain," Hughie slurred. "We're kind of your responsibility."
"On the pitch, ya gobshite."
"Come on, Cap, you're the one with the empty house. You know Feely's mother will lose her shit if he goes home in this condition, and my mam won't let us through the front. And Gibs –" he gestured a thumb to the window. "He's as good as your brother, lad."
All unfortunate truths.
"You're a bunch of bleeding eejits, is what ye are," I grumbled before relenting. "Fine." I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "Get them. I'm going now."
"You absolute legend, Kavanagh," Hughie praised as he staggered back into the pub to get the lads.
On any other occasion, I would offer to help him. Gibs was a handful after drink, but I'd sooner walk over hot coals than go back inside and face Bella.
"Sorry about this, Paddy," I mumbled, wandering over to lean against the taxi while I waited for the three fucking stooges to come out of the bar. "I thought I'd be alone."
"No worries, boyo," the plump little man replied. "Any friend of Johnny Kavanagh's is a friend of mine."
"Yeah? Well, my friends are assholes," I admitted with a shrug.
And partial to puking.
In taxis...
"Paddy –" Scratching the back of my head I turned to look at him, my mind set on potential damage control. "Remind me to drop you off a couple of tickets to one of our home games in the summer, if you're interested."
"Jesus, Johnny, are you serious?" The taxi driver's eyes lit up. "I'd be delighted, boyo. Thrilled to pieces. I watch all your matches. I even get my daughter to live stream the ones not aired on the telly. I'm always telling my wife that young Kavanagh is the best I've ever seen wearing the green 13."
I shrugged off his words, knowing that at seventeen years old I should be rattled to hear a man more than three times my age giving me such high praise, but I had heard those exact words so many times that the compliment ran off me like water off a duck.
"Appreciate the support, man," I replied. "You have my number on your call list. Just send me a text to remind me because I'm drunk as fuck right now and won't remember a word of this in the morning."
"Will do," Paddy replied. "And not to be overstepping the line here, but you're well rid of that girl."
I frowned at him, mentally racking my head for a time in history when I'd been foolish enough to take her home with me. That's the only way the taxi driver would know.
In the fogginess of my mind, I vaguely remembered a night out over Halloween break last year when Bella had thrown a huge tantrum outside the pub because I refused to take her home in the taxi to my house.
It was one of the last times I'd been with her.
"The one your pal was talking about," he explained. "She's bad news for a lad like you." Tapping his temple, he added, "Trust old Paddy, lad. Girls like that one are takers."
He had that right.
Fucking hell.
Hughie and Feely staggered out of the bar carting Gibsie, who was singing his own rendition of The Blizzard's Trust Me I'm A Doctor at the top of his lungs.
I shook my head at the sight of him.
"Nobody," I slurred as I walked over and took his weight from the lads. "And I mean nobody, would ever trust that you're a doctor, Gibs."
"Your future wife saved me from a bad fucking pussy today," he slurred. "Buy a ring, lad." Slinging an arm over my shoulder, he added, "Pussy whisperer's a keeper."
Frowning, I looked to Hughie who stared in confusion right back at me.
"How much did you drink, lad?" I asked Gibsie as I wrestled to keep him in one place.
He had a habit of scampering off when he was drunk.
"Enough," Gibsie slurred before bursting back into the chorus of the song, stamping his feet on the footpath for emphasis.
"Yeah, yeah, fucker," I coaxed as I half carried him to the taxi. "You're a doctor."
"With no standards," he held up a finger and declared before falling into the back seat of the car.
"Never thought you had," I agreed, climbing in alongside him to buckle the eejit up.
"How'ya, Paddy?" Gibsie paused mid-song to acknowledge. "To the Kavanagh manor," he added before diving right back into song.
Fucking Gibsie.
"What's the story with you and Bella?" Hughie asked.