"Well, tell me to stop," I shot back. "Don’t tell me to go over there."
"I did tell you to stop," Gibsie hissed, sounding exasperated. "Like two minutes ago. I told you to stop staring at her like a creeper, and yet here you are, still fucking her with your eyes, and still looking like someone shit in your cornflakes." He threw his hands up. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
"You're supposed to remember that I'm the eejit who almost died this morning being dessy driver for your learner arse," I grumbled. "So instead of encouraging me to make bad choices, why don’t you try and support me for once."
"I'm a good driver!"
I rolled my eyes. "You are a liability."
"And I am nothing but supportive to you," he huffed dramatically. "I am your number fucking one supporter, Johnny Kavanagh." Leaning back in his seat, he folded his arms across his chest and gave me a pointed look. "You really hurt my feelings just now."
"I hurt your feelings?" I cocked a brow. "Who's the bitch with a vagina now?"
"Apologize," he ordered.
"Get the fuck out of here, ya eejit," I laughed.
He glared back at me. "Say you're sorry."
"For what?"
"For hurting my feelings," he sniffed. "Now apologize."
"I'm sorry, Gibs," I placated, deciding it was easier to just give the big eejit what he wanted.
"You could mean it," he argued.
"You could learn not to push your luck," I warned.
We had a fifteen second stare down until he grinned and said, "I accept your apology."
"Good," I muttered. "I'm delighted for ya."
"And since you seem to need so much support these days –" Shoving back his chair, Gibsie stood up and winked at me. "I'll go talk to her for you."
"Don’t you fucking dare – " I paused to grab him, but he slipped out of my grip and sauntered away. "Gibs!"
"Relax, Kav, I've got this," he told me as he made a big show of adjusting his school tie. Waggling his brows, he added, "Watch how it's done."
And then he walked right over to the girls' table and sat down.
For fuck's sake...
My feet were moving before my common sense had a chance to talk me off the ledge I was about to step onto.
14
Provisional Licenses
Shannon
I could feel Johnny's eyes on my face from across the lunch hall on Monday.
Like the stalker I was, I knew exactly where he sat for lunch each day: the last seat at the end of the glorified rugby table, on the inside row, next to the archway exit.
All through lunch, I dutifully ignored the burning sensation on my cheeks, the same burn I could feel all the way down to my toes, and concentrated on Claire and Lizzie.
Because I knew what would happen if I looked back at him.
I would give myself away, and he didn’t need to know how badly he affected me.
He confused me last Friday and he was confusing me again.
Why was he watching me?
Why did he invite me to that party?
Why did he make my heart race so violently?
I didn’t understand what was happening here, and in the storm of my turbulent emotions, I needed to hold onto some semblance of control.
It wasn’t easy, though, and that control was snatched from my teetering grip the moment Gibsie walked right up to our table, all blond hair and big smiles.
"Ladies," he acknowledged in that flirtatious tone I'd become used to him using as he slipped into a seat on the other side of Claire. "How are we doing today?"
"What do you want, Gerard?" Claire groaned, slipping out of his hold when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "We're trying to eat here."
"I have something to show you," he told her, brows waggling.
"I'm not looking at your penis," Claire hissed. "So stop trying to show it to me."
"Not that," Gibsie snorted and then proceeded to pull a set of keys out of his pocket and dangle them in Claire's face. "These."
"Oh my god," Claire gasped, snatching the keys out of his hands. "Your parents gave you the car early? I thought you weren't getting the keys until the weekend?"
"They caved," he told her, grinning. "Which means –"
"A maniac has been let loose on Irish roads?" Lizzie interjected.
"Jesus," Gibsie muttered, frowning across the table at Lizzie. "You're a barrel of laughs."
Lizzie merely gave him the finger and returned to her lunch.
Shaking his head, Gibsie turned his attention back to Claire. "There's more," he announced, giving her his sole attention. "They're gone to Tenerife." He waggled his brows. "Until Monday."
"They've left you to your own devices?" Claire demanded. "You?"
"And you know what that means, don’t you?" He winked back at her. "Sleepover time."
"Your parents left you in charge of their house?" she repeated, looking shocked.
He grinned and swiped her apple out of her hand. "They did."
"For an entire week?" Claire shook her head, mouth hanging open. "Alone? Unsupervised."
His grin widened as he tossed the apple up in the air. "You sound surprised," he added, catching the apple effortlessly.
Intrigued by their interaction, I leaned against the table and watched with interest.
"Because I am," Claire spluttered, staring back at him. "Do they know you at all?"
"Obviously not," he snorted. "Now go home and pack your shit." He waggled his brows before taking a bite from Claire's apple. "Because you're checking into Hotel Gibson for the week," he added mid-chew. "Fun times."
"Oh really?" Claire leaned back in her chair and smirked. "And does Hotel Gibson come with good reviews?"
"It comes with cock, Claire-Bear," Gibsie announced – and not quietly. "An unlimited supply of five-star cock."
"Say it louder," she hissed, slapping his shoulder. "I don’t think everyone heard you."
"It comes with cock, Claire!" he taunted, accepting her challenge without an ounce of shame. "My cock."
"Fuck your cock," Claire growled, looking mortified.
"Of course, you can," he nodded with a grin. "But here's not really the place."
"I don’t know why I'm friends with you," Claire muttered, cheeks burning. "You're so inappropriate."
"You are friends with me because you love me," he purred. "Because I'm the only one that makes your cheeks turn pink–" he paused and stroked her cheek with his finger, "in more ways than one."
"When I was eleven, Gerard," she shot back. "And it was one bloody kiss!"
"I’m ready for a repeat performance," he told her. "Say the word, Claire-Bear, tell me you're ready for us, and I'm all yours –"
"Can you stop doing that!" Lizzie barked then, glaring at Gibsie.
"Doing what?"
"Screwing around with her feelings," she huffed. "It's not a game!"
"Lizzie, it's okay," Claire began to say but Lizzie cut her off.
"It's not okay," she snapped. "He's been doing this since we were four. It's wrong!"
"I'm not screwing around with her feelings," Gibsie replied, looking confused. "She knows I love her."
Claire turned beetroot red, causing Lizzie to growl.
"Yeah, asshole," Lizzie hissed. "You love her loads, don’t you? That's why you're going around shagging half the school, isn’t it?"
"What is your problem?" Gibsie growled, glaring now.
"You," Lizzie snapped. "You and your shithead friends thinking you're cock of the walk. Going around playing girls like it's all a big game. You're all disgusting. Every last one of you rugbyheads."
Gibsie gaped at her, looking affronted. "What did Johnny do out of the way to you?"
"Yeah," a familiar voice asked. "What did I do?"
My heart skyrocketed in my chest at the sound of that achingly familiar Dublin accent.
It stood out from everyone around us, just like he stood out from everyone around us.
"You're as bad as the rest of them," Lizzie hissed, not missing a beat, as she turned her furious glare on Johnny, who much to my detriment, was pulling out the chair next to me. "Worse. You're their leader."
"Well, that's news to me," Johnny countered calmly.
He sat down beside me then and I felt the piece of bread I was chewing on wedge itself to the roof of my mouth.
Swallowing it down, I looked up at him, wide-eyed and confused.