"It's no problem," he replied. "I figure I still owe you for the broken head, huh?"
"You didn’t break it," I was quick to clear up. "You just knocked my brain around a little."
Johnny grimaced. "I kind of did, didn’t I?"
"Well," I mused. "It's fifteen miles to my house. So, between the money, threatening to cut off Ronan's penis, and the spin home, I think we can call it quits."
"He's not in your class, is he?" Johnny expelled a frustrated breath. "Because that can be sorted, too."
"We only have one class together twice a week," I explained.
The male to female ratio in third year was heavily unbalanced with eighty boys and only five girls.
All five girls were placed into the same class, 3A.
Luckily for me, Ronan McGarry was in 3D so, with the exception of a couple of mixed classes during the week, I wouldn’t have to look at him.
"He's never spoken a word to me until this evening," I added.
"Well, if he gives you even a whiff of shite then let me know," Johnny growled. "And I'll fix it."
"You'll fix it?" I questioned. "You make it sound like you're in the Mafia or something."
Johnny barked out a laugh and held the door open, gesturing with his hand. "Come on, Shannon like the river. Get in my car."
He was so unexpected, and I was so distracted by him, that I didn’t feel any hesitation.
I just climbed in and fastened my seatbelt, watching as he closed my door and jogged around the front of the car to his side.
It wasn’t until he was sitting in the driver's seat beside me with the doors closed, that I felt my heartbeat increase and my usual swell of anxiety churn.
"Christ, it's freezing," Johnny announced, rubbing his hands together before starting the engine.
He was right.
It was freezing in here.
"It's late to be catching a bus," he added, flicking on the light overhead. "School finishes at four."
"Yeah, I know." I clasped my hands together, my entire body a bundle of nerves. "But the half-five bus is the only one that goes past my road."
"That sucks."
"It's not so bad," I replied, adjusting my seatbelt. "I usually manage to get most of my homework done before I leave school in the evenings."
A small shiver rolled through me then, to which Johnny automatically responded with, "Are you cold?"
Reaching for the heater, he turned it on full blast, then returned to rubbing his hands together and shivering.
"Shouldn’t take long to melt," he added, pointing to the thin layer of ice on the windscreen.
"I'm okay, but you should probably put a coat on," I stated, eyeing his bare arms. "Or at least a jumper. It's like 2 degrees out there. You'll end up getting sick."
"Nah, I'm used to it," he told me. "I spend most of every winter on a pitch in the pissings of rain."
"Playing rugby," I filled in thoughtfully.
"Yep." Cupping his hands close to his mouth, he blew a breath into them and continued to rub. "Do you play any sports?"
"No." I shook my head and fingered a button on my coat. "I like watching, though."
Tilting his head to one side, he studied my face. "Do you watch a lot of rugby?"
I could feel the weight of his stare in my cheeks.
They were on fire.
"Ah, no," I mumbled. "I mean, I watched that one match last week, and I watch Ireland in the Six Nations championship every year, and I sometimes follow the soccer. But it's mostly GAA – Gaelic football and hurling." I looked over at him. "My brother, Joey – the guy on the phone? He plays for Cork."
"No shit?" Johnny's brows shot up. "Senior level?"
"No, he's only eighteen, so it's the minors for now," I replied. "But there's talk of him being called up to the senior team next season."
"You know, now that I think of it, the name Joey Lynch sounds familiar," Johnny mused. He twisted in his seat to face me, expression full of interest. "He's over in BCS, right? A hurler?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "He was a duel player for years, like most people, but when he got called up to county level, he dropped football."
"Nice." Johnny blew out a breath. He sounded impressed when he leaned back against his door and said, "It's not easy to get a call up to county level anywhere, but especially in Cork where the competition is so fierce."
"It really isn’t." I kept my body position straight ahead but turned my head to look at him. "People don’t get how incredibly hard it is to play at that level and stay there. They assume it's easy for athletes and that they're spoilt and entitled, but they don’t see the huge, behind the scenes sacrifices that are made daily by those guys."
"You can chalk that down," he replied, nodding his head in agreement.
Propping a foot on his seat, Johnny hooked his arm around his knee, rested his other arm on the steering wheel, and gave me his undivided attention.
"Your brother's taking this opportunity with both hands?"
"I guess," I replied, thinking about my brother and his attitude towards life.
This was strange.
I usually wasn’t much of a talker.
Not around strangers at least.
It didn’t feel that way around him, though.
Not tonight, at least.
I felt oddly forthcoming and Johnny's interest in what I had to say encouraged me to keep talking.
Besides, my brother was a safe topic.
Everybody loved Joey, myself included, and I was fiercely proud of his achievements.
"But he's still in school – doing his leaving cert this year – and there are a lot of distractions for him. Our father wants him focused on hurling 24/7, but Joe is a sociable guy. He finds it hard to say no to his friends," I continued to ramble and he continued to listen intently to what I was saying.
"Honestly, Joey has the talent and skill to play at any level," I stated truthfully, appreciating every nod Johnny made as I spoke. "It's keeping his head that's his biggest problem, and distractions are everywhere. Everybody wants a piece of you when you're in the public eye, and Joey has a hard time keeping his feet on the ground." I waved a dismissive hand in the air as I spoke. "I guess it's hard to keep your feet on the ground when you're a teenager playing in a man's world and reaping the rewards for it – " I paused, exhaling a heavy sigh before adding, "You know how it is with parties, girls, special treatment, and all that."
"Yeah," Johnny replied, rubbing his jaw almost absentmindedly. He had this strange expression etched on his face as he looked at me, one I couldn’t quite depict. "I do know."
"It was the same for Darren," I added thoughtfully, thinking back to how similar my brothers' lives were at eighteen.
Johnny's brows knitted. "Darren?"
I flushed. "Oh, he's my oldest brother. He played a year of senior level before giving up."
"No shit?" Johnny's brows shot up. "Why did he give up?"
"The pressure?" I offered weakly, unwilling to delve into my family's issues. "I guess he lost heart in the game."
There was a long, pregnant pause after that where neither of us spoke.
It was unsettling and brought with it my earlier anxieties.
"Sorry," I mumbled, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I probably just bored you half to sleep with all that." Fingering my braid nervously, I looked from the now ice-free windscreen to him before saying, "I'd say we're good to go."
Johnny made no move to leave.
Instead, he surprised me by saying, "What about you?"
"What about me?" I replied, feeling a little unnerved.
"Are you a skilled camogie player?" He shot me a grin. "Since it clearly runs in your family."
"Ah, no," I replied, flushing bright red. "Definitely not. I was never any good at it. But I love watching. I love the physicality of the game."
Johnny nodded, absorbing everything I was telling him with perfect politeness, only to surprise the hell out of me when he said, "I think you'd like rugby."
My brows rose up at the odd statement.
"I think what you meant to say is I might die playing rugby," I corrected, gesturing to my body. "If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of on the small side."
A huge smile spread across his face, dimples emerging.