But what if she wasn’t?
You don’t have time for this, asshole, my brain hissed, you have a PT session in an hour.
Shaking my head, I opened my car door only to quickly slam it shut and stalk back into the school.
You're just going to check on her, make sure she's okay, and then get the fuck out of there, I told myself as I walked through the school to the girls' bathroom. There's nothing wrong with that.
But there was.
There was something seriously wrong with this picture.
I was standing outside the girls' bathroom, waiting on a girl to come out who might not be in there to begin with.
I was as bad as McGarry.
Disgusted with myself, I turned to leave.
I made it five feet before retracing my steps back to the bleeding bathroom.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I was deep in thought, fighting an internal battle with my conscience, when the bathroom door flew open and a tiny wisp of a girl came rushing out and crashed straight into my chest.
The minute my eyes landed on her, I knew I was in trouble.
You should have gone home while you could, eejit, my mind hissed, there's no leaving now.
Wasn’t that the truth.
17
You've got a fast car
Shannon
My body smacked into a hard chest of muscle, causing my school bag to fall to the floor from the impact.
Instinctively, my hands darted out in front of my face, self-preservation mode activated.
If I wasn’t so frightened, I would have been proud of the scream that tore from my chest.
It was progress.
Two large hands shot out, capturing my flailing limbs, and steadying me.
"Hey – hey, relax." I recognized the hint of a Dublin accent immediately. "Shh, relax. It's just me."
Sagging in relief, I looked up at his face, registering the familiarity.
"Oh god." My words came out in a sharp gasp, as I stared up at him, breathing hard and fast. "You almost gave me a heart attack."
"Shite, sorry about that." Johnny released me and took a step back, holding his hands out in front of him. "You were in the bathroom so long I thought I'd need to call in a rescue crew or something."
He took another step backwards, then cupped the back of his neck with a hand, looking a little uncomfortable.
He was still wearing the same jersey with the sleeves slightly torn at the biceps, but had switched his shorts for grey sweatpants, and his footballs boots for a pair of runners.
"I just wanted to check that you were okay." Shrugging, he dropped his hands to his sides and asked, "Are you?"
Was I?
"I think so?" My heart was beating at a hundred miles an hour and I felt like I was two seconds away from passing out from the adrenalin battering through my veins.
Pressing a hand to my chest, I took a few deep breaths to steady my frazzled nerves before I could speak.
He was so much taller than me that I had to crane my head back so I could look at his face when I asked, "Were you waiting out here for me?"
"Uh, yeah." Shoving his big hands into the pockets of his sweats, Johnny nodded. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. Gibsie told me what he said to you."
"He did?"
"Yeah." Johnny nodded grimly. "That fucker won't be bothering you again."
"Ronan?"
He nodded, jaw ticking. "Listen, I need you to trust me when I tell you that little scene with McGarry had more to do with me than you." He shifted uncomfortably and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "He likes to push boundaries – mine more than most."
Push boundaries?
More to do with him?
"Oh." I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
I was so confused.
"Thanks," I added, because thanking him seemed like the right thing to do.
"No problem."
"Did you, uh, catch him?" I asked, then immediately regretted my question.
Why was I making conversation with him?
That was my cue to leave.
Why wasn’t I leaving?
And why wouldn’t my heart stop trying to beat its way out of my chest?
Was this going to happen every time I bumped into him?
If so, I needed to get a prescription.
"Ronan," I clarified, digging myself a deeper hole. "You were counting to five."
"Like I said," Johnny replied, jaw set in a tight line, "He won't be bothering you again."
My eyes widened. "You didn’t kill him, did you?"
He barked out a laugh. "No, Shannon, I didn’t kill him."
"Oh, okay." I breathed a heavy sigh. "That's good."
He tilted his head to one side, expression curious, voice soft. "Is it?"
"Well, I-I, yeah," I choked out. "I guess it's always good to avoid a murder charge."
"I guess that's true," he replied with a smirk.
"Well, I'm, ah, okay," I said, tone a little strained. "Thanks for checking."
He arched a dark brow. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
"Good."
He made no move to walk away, and, weirdly enough, neither did I.
We both just stood there, a few feet apart, with him looking down at me, and me staring right back up at him.
It was hard to explain what was happening, but it almost felt like he was re-memorizing what I looked like.
At least, that's what I was doing.
His dark blue eyes were on my face, moving from my eyes to my lips, and back up again.
He was openly taking me in and made no attempt to be discreet about it.
It was disconcerting and exciting all at once.
My phone vibrated against my chest then, startling me, and thankfully giving me a much-needed reprieve from the strange tension enveloping us.
Unbuttoning my coat, I dragged my phone out of my pocket, glanced at Joey's name flashing on the screen, and quickly pressed accept.
"Shannon! What's going on?" my brother demanded down the line. "Are you okay? Did something happen –" his voice broke off and he growled down the line, "If one of those posh bastards did something to you, I will lose my –"
"I'm fine," I blurted out, interrupting him mid-rant. "I'm okay. Calm down."
My eyes flickered to Johnny who was still there, watching me with a considering look.
"I missed my bus," I continued to say, turning my back on him to gain some much-needed composure. "And the next one's not until quarter to ten tonight," I quickly explained, keeping my voice low and hushed. "It's already dark out and I don’t want to walk in case –" I stopped myself before finishing that sentence, then hurried on to ask, "Are you with Aoife? Can you guys come pick me up?"
Joey had his full license, but he didn’t have a car.
His girlfriend, who was still on her provisional license, had a fourteen-year-old Opel Corsa.
It was old and sluggish, but it worked.
Joey was a named driver on her insurance and her dessy driver most days, and I knew she allowed him to borrow it whenever he wanted.
"I'm really stuck, Joe," I added, voice small. "I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate."
"Ah bollox, Shan. I'm working until nine," Joey grumbled. "I got called in to cover for one of the lads, and Aoife works until half ten on Tuesdays so she has the car. Did you try Mam?"
"She's working the late shift," I mumbled. "And I'm not calling Dad."
"No! Jesus, don’t call him," Joey agreed, tone hard. He sighed heavily down the line and said, "Look, hang up and give me a few minutes. I'll call around a few of the lads – see if anyone can pick you up. I'll phone you back in a few."
"No, don’t do that," I was quick to interject, the thought of getting into a car with one of his friends, however tolerant they were of me, was not an appealing concept. "The school stays open late. I can wait here until my bus comes."
A gentle tap on my shoulder drew my attention away from my phone call.
Spinning around, I looked up and locked eyes with Johnny.
"I can take you home," he said, blue eyes locked on mine.
"Huh?" I opened my mouth but nothing but blabbering came out.
"My car's parked outside." He inclined his head towards the entrance. "I can take you home."
"I, uh, I…" Shaking my head, I sucked in a sharp breath and tried again. "No, no, that's okay. You don’t have to do that."