Not one bit.
"Shannon?" Johnny said, capturing my attention once more. He was looking at me expectantly, wallet in hand. "Will I get you another drink?"
"Uh…" Scooting closer, I leaned over the table and gestured for Johnny to come closer.
Frowning, he did.
"Johnny," I whispered in his ear. "I feel like we're being watched."
Pulling back, I looked around again and noticed the table of teenage girls had somehow pushed closer to ours. My eyes flicked to his and I nodded vigorously. "People are definitely watching us, Johnny."
Johnny looked incredibly irritated when he exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about this."
"Is it because of the rugby?"
He gave me a resigned looking nod. "I'm sorry. Just ignore them."
"How?" I croaked out, feeling very exposed in this moment.
Johnny stared at me for a long moment, unspeaking, before pushing back his chair and standing up.
"Come on," he announced, holding his hand out for me. "I'll get you another drink and we'll sit in the lounge."
"The lounge?"
"It's quieter." He looked around and muttered, "Maybe we'll get some peace and fucking quiet," under his breath.
He didn’t like this, either.
He might act like it didn’t bother him.
But this wasn’t something he was comfortable with.
It was with this realization that I found myself taking his outstretched hand.
Overwhelmed, I followed Johnny to the bar where he ordered us more drinks, before walking through a door at the side of the bar and into a dimly lit room.
This room had more of a youthful feel to it, with pool tables and dart boards on the walls, and a juke box playing in the corner.
I noticed several teenagers sporting a range of different school uniforms from the local district lounging around.
Like when we walked into the main bar, everyone turned to look at him, but after a few head nods and 'how's it going, Kav', they turned back to their company.
Johnny led me over to a table in the far corner of the lounge, but this time instead of taking one of the bar stools on the other side of the table, he set our drinks down and sat down on the leather bench beside me.
From here, we had a perfect view of the rest of the room, with the perk of being slightly tucked out of the way.
You should go home, Shannon, my common sense commanded, you should not be here.
"Better?" Johnny asked, settling down beside me.
I nodded and reached for my coke, eyes locked on the goings on around me.
I could see several boys at the far side of the lounge wearing BCS uniforms, and that made me want to crawl under the table and hide.
I was so nervous that I had to use both hands to stop the bottle from shaking.
Seeing Ciara Maloney, my greatest tormentor from my old school, and the giver of my eyelid scar, sitting amongst them made my entire body coil up with dread.
Like she could sense me watching her, Ciara turned her face in my direction.
Great.
Just bloody great.
The moment she recognized me, that familiar glint of malicious intent flashed in her eyes for about two seconds before her gaze moved to Johnny who was sitting beside me.
Her mouth visibly fell open and she began to nudge the girl sitting beside her, Hannah Daly – her best friend and another one of my bullies.
We were being watched again.
But now, it had more to do with me being hated than him being the local celebrity.
Panicked, I dropped my gaze to the glass bottle clasped between my hands.
Breathe, Shannon.
Just breathe…
"You're a lying, little whore," Ciara snarled as she pinned me to the wall behind the school and glared down at me. "You were looking at him."
Knowing it was safer to say nothing, I kept my mouth shut and mentally prepared myself for the beating I knew I would receive.
"Answer me, bitch!" she snarled, slamming my shoulders into the concrete, causing the air to expel from my lungs in a loud, pained groan.
Several of the girls standing around us all laughed and sneered when a whimper tore from my throat.
I was already aching in more ways than any of these girls could comprehend – my father's latest whiskey tantrum the cause of my pain – and they were enjoying my obvious discomfort.
It wasn’t anything new to me.
I was used to being laughed at.
I was used to being the punching bag.
And I hated myself for accepting it.
When Ciara shoved me into the wall again, I forced myself to swallow down the sob that was threatening to erupt from my throat, forcing the words, "I didn’t look at your boyfriend," out instead. "He looked at me."
That was the truth.
Her boyfriend had a horrible habit of staring at me.
My explanation earned me a slap across the face and a fistful of my hair to be yanked so roughly that I staggered forward, feeling weak and powerless.
"I'm going to fucking destroy you," she hissed in my ear before tearing her nails down the side of my cheek.
Go for it, I thought to myself.
But you can't destroy what's already broken…
"Relax," Johnny whispered in my ear, distracting me from my memories. "You're safe with me."
His words threw me and I turned my face to look at him.
God, he was just so beautiful, it was painful.
Everything about Johnny Kavanagh was pure perfection.
He was big and strong, and his face?
Oh god, his face was the best face I had ever laid eyes on.
"Why wouldn’t I be safe?" It was a defensive question asked out of desperation because this boy was throwing me like no one had before.
I couldn’t figure any of this out, and my poor heart was working in overdrive to keep up with the feelings bombarding my body because of his close proximity.
Fear, uncertainty, lust, and panic were all kicking my ass.
"I'm just letting you know that you are," he replied, blue eyes locked on mine. "Okay?"
Exhaling a ragged breath, I nodded and shifted closer to him.
If I could, I would climb on his lap and bury my face in his chest in this moment, but he was a virtual stranger to me and that would be socially frowned upon, so I settled for sidling up to him.
I knew he probably thought I was crazy, but I was two seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack and his presence was grounding me.
Johnny looked at me with curious eyes before turning his attention to the table of sixth years from BCS.
I saw it then, a spark of recognition lit up Johnny's eyes before his face took on a hardened expression.
"Can we go now?" I whispered, heart beating rapidly as I resisted the urge to burrow into his side. "Please?"
"We'll go when we're ready to go," he said in a voice so low and soft that it was barely audible. "Put your head up, Shannon like the river." Moments later, he draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me into his side. "No one's going to hurt you."
Relieved, I moved closer, too close for strangers to sit, but I didn’t care.
He was big and strong and I got the distinct feeling that he was telling me the truth.
I believed him when he told me I was safe with him.
"Those girls?" he asked, tilting his face down to look at me as he spoke. "What's the story?"
"There's no story," I croaked out, clutching my bottle with a death grip.
"Why do I find that hard to believe?"
I shrugged and ducked my chin, letting my hair fall forward, wishing I had Harry Potter's invisibility cloak draped around my body so I could escape this situation without more pain.
I couldn’t take anymore.
"Look at me."
I didn’t.
"Look at me," he repeated, tone calm and coaxing.
I couldn’t.
I felt him shift beside me and then his fingers were on my chin, tipping my face up to his.
"You're safe," he whispered, cupping my cheek in his hand, eyes boring holes straight through my soul. "I promise."
That word.
God.
That one word broke me.
It was all too much.
My life.
Those girls.
My father.
And in the middle of it all, I could only see him.
This boy.
27
Keep the head
Johnny