"Oh, right, sorry!" I squeaked and scrambled to back out of the line of the lens.
"We were talking," Johnny bit out. He cast a scathing glare at the photographer and then walked right over to me.
"Smile," he instructed quietly as he pulled me into his side and clamped his huge, muddy hand on my hip.
Stunned, I stared up at him. "Huh?"
"Smile," Johnny repeated calmly, tucking me under his arm.
Frazzled, I turned back to face the photographer and did exactly what Johnny told me to do.
I beamed.
The photographer arched a brow and gave me a curious look, but quickly hurried to snap what felt like a million snaps.
The flashes coming from his camera were blinding and when they were joined by many more flashes from other photographers, I began to shake with anxiety.
What the hell was happening?
"Alright, that's enough," Johnny declared as he held a hand up and released my hip. "Thanks for coming out today. Appreciate the support."
"Johnny, Johnny?" one of the women crowding us called out. "What's your relationship?"
"Private," Johnny shot back coolly.
"What's your name, love?" the original photographer asked, as he pulled a pen out of his coat pocket.
Trembling, I just stood there, feeling like a dummy, feeling a million pairs of curious eyes on my face.
"Shannon Lynch," Johnny stated with a clipped nod, and then, ignoring the half dozen photographers watching us, he turned his attention back to me. "Are you coming to the party after school?"
"What are they doing?" I asked uncertainly, unable to focus on what he just said, because I was too busy eyeing the photographer writing something on the back of his hand and several other reporters skulking nearby.
"Ignore them," Johnny said with a shake of his head. "They'll go away."
"They're watching you," I whispered. "And I think they're watching me?"
Releasing a frustrated growl, Johnny turned around. "I’m at school," he stated in a sharp tone. "On school grounds. With a minor."
Thankfully, that seemed to do the trick because they slowly dispersed.
"That was so strange," I strangled out when Johnny faced me again.
He eyed me curiously. "You don’t like that sort of thing?"
"That was horrible," I choked out. "All that attention over a silly game."
Johnny gave me another curious look.
I stared back at him, feeling totally confused.
"So, are you coming?" Johnny asked.
When I continued to stare blankly at him, he clarified.
"To the party. Hughie's Ma is throwing on a spread for the team at their house."
"Me?"
"Yes, you," he replied, giving me a peculiar look.
My heartrate increased to a dangerous level as I stared up at this beautiful boy who was asking me to a party.
Wait, was he asking me, or inviting me?
Oh god, I didn’t know.
Frowning, Johnny added, "You're friends with his sister, Claire, aren’t you?"
"Oh." I shook my head vigorously. "Oh, ah, no, I'm not. I mean, yes, I am friends with Claire, but I'm not going to the party."
He arched a brow. "How come?"
"Because I'm not allowed to go anywhe–" I stopped myself short and quickly steered my words in a safer direction. "I have to help my Mam in the evenings."
"She's pregnant," he stated in a thoughtful tone.
"Yep," I replied and then, because I was a glutton for making a situation uncomfortable, I added, "She's due in August."
"Congratulations?" Johnny offered, shifting uncomfortably.
Nice work, Shannon, I mentally hissed.
"Thanks," I replied, squirming.
"Are you sure you don’t want to come?" he asked then. "I won't be drinking so I can give you a spin home when you want to go –"
"Cap," one of his teammates called out then. "Get your ass over here, lad, and lift this fucking cup."
"I'm fucking talking here, Pierce," Johnny snapped, turning around to glare at whoever was calling him. "Give me a bleeding minute."
"Your friends are calling you," I hurried to say, knowing that I needed to get away from this boy before I did something incredibly stupid like accept his invitation.
Because I wanted to.
I really, really wanted to.
And if I stayed here and kept looking at him, I knew I would.
"I better go," I added, giving Johnny yet another dopey wave. "Have a great time."
I didn’t wait to hear his response.
Instead, I turned on my heels and hurried away with my heart hammering around in my chest.
"Are you sure you don’t want to come for an hour?" I heard Johnny call after me.
"I'm sure," I called back over my shoulder as I hurried away. "Bye, Johnny."
"Yeah, uh, bye, Shannon."
The sound of boys laughing and snickering behind me filled my ears, but I didn’t dare look back.
Instead, I did the sensible thing and removed myself from temptation with Claire's words ringing in my ears.
"Boys with pretty eyes and big muscles mess everything up for girls."
How right she was.
It was a little after eight when I finally got home from school that evening.
Three miles from Tommen and the bus had broken down.
For two hours, we were forced to remain on the bus while another bus from Cork City was sent out to transport us home.
It was ridiculous.
I had spent every minute of those two hours mentally kicking myself for not taking Johnny up on his offer.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I liked him.
I really liked him.
He asked me if I was going to a party, offered to drive me home from said party, and I turned around and practically ran away from him.
No, correct that to: I did run away from him.
In my defense, I had been completely taken aback by him.
Never once in the weeks that had passed since my accident had either of us approached the other.
He broke the imaginary rule that had been enforced between us.
He threw me by talking to me and I was still very much thrown now.
All evening my mind continued to churn the encounter round and round until I was blue in the face from thinking about it and thoroughly disgusted with myself.
I should have gone to the party.
If I had, I wouldn’t have spent two hours on a freezing cold bus in semi-arctic conditions.
At least, if had gone to the party, being late would have been worth it.
Because the look on my father's face when I walked into the house assured me that the two hours I'd spent sitting alone on a broken-down bus certainly wasn’t.
"Where were you?" Dad demanded, watching me like a hawk from his perch at the kitchen table when I walked through the doorway.
The familiar swell of panic built inside of me.
My father was a powerful looking man, clocking in at six feet, with dark blond hair, and an athletic build that had stuck since his days of hurling.
He too had played for Cork, but unlike my brothers, my father's merits and achievements weren't something I openly spoke about.
Because I wasn’t proud of the man staring back at me.
I wasn’t sure if I even loved him anymore.
Or if I ever had.
Not when he terrified me worse than any of the bullies at school ever had…
"Well?" he pressed, tone tight. He was replacing the rubber grip on what looked like Ollie's hurley and the sight of him holding the wooden hurl caused a tremor of panic to roll down my spine. "You're late!"
I was suddenly very grateful that I had ran away from Johnny Kavanagh when he invited me to the party after school.
A shudder rolled through my body at the thought of what my father might do if I had accepted his invitation.
"The bus broke down," I squeezed out as I gingerly set my bag down against the wall. "We had to wait for two hours for another bus to pick us up."
My father gave me a hard stare.
I remained exactly where I was, not daring to breathe.
Finally, he nodded his head.
"Fucking buses," my father muttered, turning his attention back to his task.
The air I had been holding in released from my lungs in a loud gasp.
It's okay, Shannon, I told myself, he's not slurring, there's no smell of whiskey, and no evidence of broken furniture.