Too good for the likes of you.
“Don’t worry,” I interrupted. “I know the way the land lies. I won’t go there. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me.”
I knew Tony was fond of me. I was a good worker, just not good enough for his daughter…
“Good man,” he said with a chuckle. “But if you could keep an eye on her for me, make sure she’s not being taken advantage of, or losing the run of herself, I’d owe you one.”
“Will do...”
“You’re delusional, Molloy.”
“And you’re in denial, Lynch.” Planting her hands on her hips, she gave me look of pure frustration. “I waited for you; you know.”
I arched a brow. “You waited for me.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I waited for months for you to get your shit together and ask me out.” She looked me right in the eye when she said, “Paul wasn’t my first choice, you know.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she drawled sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware that you needed me to write it down for you, asshole.”
Well shit.
The truth was if Tony wasn’t her father, and I didn’t have so much riding on my job, then she wouldn’t have had to wait for shit. She sure as hell she wouldn’t be fucking around with that pretentious prick, Paul Rice, that was for sure.
But I had responsibilities that she could never understand. I had a sister to protect, brothers to feed, and a mother to keep me up late into the night worrying about. I didn't have the luxury of time to piss away like Paul had, nor had I the credentials, or reputation, any father would want in a lad for his daughter.
I didn’t blame Tony for wanting me to steer clear of his baby girl.
I would feel the same way about me, too.
“Well, it looks like you got bored of waiting,” I heard myself say, mentally kicking myself for not ending the conversation and walking away like I knew I should. “You’ve managed to shack yourself up with a Garda’s son from a nice side of town, so I reckon it’s safe to say that you came out on top, Molloy.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “It looks like I did, huh?”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
To her.
Fuck me.
“Go on inside and finish your homework like the good little girl you are,” I finally decided on, ignoring the weird ache in my chest, as I turned to walk away. “Oh, and don’t forget to wash the smell of Paul the prick off ya.”
“Ha. I knew it.” Reaching out, she grabbed my hand and dragged me back to her. “I knew you liked me.”
“Hey!” Snatching my hand away from hers, I shoved it back in the front pocket of my hoodie, feeling unnecessarily rattled by her touch. “Don’t do that again.”
Confusion filled her eyes. “Don’t do what?”
“Touch me.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
“Because I don’t like you.”
“Liar.”
“How about because I don’t know where those hands have been.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Dick move.
Take it back.
Take it back, asshole.
“Hey.” I shrugged, unwilling to listen to common sense. “For all I know, you could’ve been pulling on your saint of a boyfriend with those hands.”
“You did not just say that to me.”
Yeah, I did, and the fact that she was standing here challenging me meant that I couldn’t take it back.
Jesus, I had problems.
Like a defiant child, Molloy reached up and patted my chest, trailing her hands up my neck to my face. “Here, asshole, have some germs.” Pushing my hood down, she ruffled my hair before trailing her hands down my chest and into the front pocket of my hoodie. “Mm, mm, mm,” she taunted, before entwining her fingers with mine. “Feels nice, huh?”
“You’re such a brat,” I muttered, shaking my head, as I repressed the urge to shiver from the wonderful fucking feeling of having her warm skin on mine.
“And you’re such a tool,” she came right back with, unwilling to give an inch. “Now, are you going to walk me inside, or do I have to tell my dad that you abandoned me in the dark?”
My mouth fell open in disgust. “I walked you to your gate.”
“My gate is not my door.” She arched a brow in challenge. “Anything could happen to me.”
“Sure it could.” I rolled my eyes. “In the ten seconds it will take you to walk inside?”
When she made no move to back down, I relented with a frustrated sigh.
“Fine.” Shaking my head, I followed her into her garden. “I’ll walk you to your fucking door.”
“So chivalrous,” she teased, as she grinned victoriously up at me. “And sweet.”
“I’m not sweet.”
“And gentlemanly.”
“I’m not that, either – and let go of my hands.”
Cackling evilly to herself, Molloy turned the handle of the front door and pushed it inwards. “You coming in?”
Was she mental?
“No, Molloy,” I deadpanned. “I’m not coming in.”
“You sure?” Leaning against the door, she waggled her brows and said, “There’s a full box of coco pops in the kitchen with my name on, that I’m willing to share with you.”
“I’m not coming…“ my words broke off when my brain registered what she had said. “Coco pops?”
She nodded. “The good kind.”
Well shit.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I heard myself ask, “Is there milk in the fridge?”
“Always.”
My stomach rumbled loudly at the concept of getting fed tonight because, let’s face it, the odds of finding anything in the kitchen on a Monday night at my house weren’t in my favor.
“This doesn’t mean we’re friends,” I warned, as I took an uncertain step inside her front hall. “This changes nothing, Molloy.”
HIT ME WITH THOSE GREEN EYES
FEBRUARY 14TH 2000
AOIFE
Okay, so inviting a boy who wasn’t my recently acquired boyfriend into my house on Valentine’s night might not have been my brightest idea, but in my defense, sharing a box of coco pops with Joey Lynch wasn’t exactly the crime of the century.
It was a harmless, platonic, random act of kindness/show of gratitude to the boy who had walked me home in the dark.
See, I could be chivalrous, too.
“Pull up a chair,” I instructed, as I strode into the kitchen ahead of him. “I’ll grab the bowls.”
Looking wary and mistrustful, my classmate shuffled towards the kitchen table and slowly pulled out a chair. “I mean it, Molloy. This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I drawled, humored by his pathetic attempt to shield himself from my irresistible charm. “Whatever you say, Joey Lynch.”
Setting to work, I grabbed bowls, spoons, milk from the fridge, and a box of cereal from the cupboard before setting them down on the table in front of him. “Dig in.”
He didn’t move an inch.
“Tea?” I offered then.