“You need a better poker face.”
“You have it all wrong.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“Joey, please—”
“Don’t worry,” I cut her off with a wink. “I don’t talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She looked truly terrified now. “Because like I said, you have it all wrong.”
“Sure I have.”
“Oh god. Please don’t say anything, Joey.” Swallowing deeply, she pressed a hand to her brow and groaned. “He has a girlfriend, and I have a…”
“I’ll tell you what, Lilly.“
“It’s Lizzie.”
“Lizzie.” Taking pity on her, I pulled a cigarette from my box, put it to my lips and sparked it up, before holding it out for her. “You keep an eye on Shannon when she starts at your school next week, watch her back and keep any assholes who think about targeting her in line, and I’ll forget everything you think I have all wrong.”
“I was planning on looking after Shannon, regardless,” she replied, taking the cigarette and putting it to her lips.
“And I was planning on keeping my mouth shut, regardless,” I replied evenly. “So, it looks like we both win.”
“I’m not a bad person,” she was quick to point out, tone defensive. “I’m not a slut, either.”
“I never said you were.”
“Yeah, but I know what you’re thinking.”
I arched a brow. “I really doubt that.”
“You’re thinking I’m a horrible snake to even consider going there with another girl’s fella, but you have no idea what’s really going on,” she mumbled, red-faced. “It’s really, really complicated. And messy.” She exhaled a ragged breath before muttering, “And a million other things.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my business.”
“So, that’s it?” She eyed me warily. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What else is there to say?” I replied with a shrug. “The way I see it; you’re not the first to get tangled up like this, and you won’t be the last. Either way, I’m no priest, so no need to offer your confession up to me. Not when I’ve done plenty worse than you.”
She arched a brow, reluctantly intrigued. “When you say worse.”
I smirked. “You’d need a bishop to take my confession.”
JOLENE WAS A BLONDE WITH A DEATH WISH
AOIFE
Groomed to within an inch of my life, and with three quarters of a bottle of Prosecco in my system, I leaned back on the couch in Katie’s boyfriend’s living room, feeling like I had taken a trip back in time.
Whoever was on the decks clearly had a hard on for 90’s music, because Bloodhound Gang’s The Bad Touch was just the latest in a long list of songs from the previous decade.
Feeling buzzed, I watched as Casey backed her ass up against some dark-haired boy from Tommen and feigned a stagger.
I rolled my eyes when he grabbed her hips to steady her, which was exactly what she wanted.
She was so predictable.
“Thanks,” Casey said, beaming up at him.
“No problem.”
“What’s your name?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Patrick,” he told her, offering her a shy smile. “What’s yours?”
Run, Patrick, run, I felt like shouting, she’s going to eat you alive, you poor, innocent fool.
“I’m Casey.” With one hand curled around his neck, she fisted his shirt with the other and tugged his big body close against her. “So, Patrick.” Trailing her hand from his neck to his cheek, she pulled his face down to hers and beamed up at him. “What year are you in?”
“Fifth year, you?”
“Sixth year.”
“At BCS?”
“Uh-huh. Do you play rugby, Patrick?”
He nodded. “I’m an inside center.”
“Excellent.”
Yeah, my best friend was the meaning behind that small but fierce saying.
She needed a wing woman like a fish needed rollerblades.
“That’s Patrick Feely,” Katie explained in my ear. “He’s good friends with Hugh.”
“And that’s Hugh’s younger sister, right?” I asked, pointing out the stunning blonde with a head of to-die-for curls, who was sitting on the couch opposite us, dressed as Baby Spice.
I watched, completely invested in the animated conversation she was having with an equally beautiful blond boy dressed like a Malibu Ken doll I used to own back in the day. They were all smiles and hands flailing as they talked and laughed and touched each other.
“Yeah, that’s Claire,” Katie replied. “She’s probably one of the sweetest girls that you’ll ever meet.”
I narrowed my eyes as recognition flickered through me. “Wait a minute. I think I know that guy she’s talking to.”
“Everybody knows Gerard Gibson,” Katie chuckled.
“He offered Joey a condom in Biddies once.”
“Sounds very Gibsie-like.” Katie bit back a laugh. “He’s, uh, well, let’s just say that he’s one of a kind. He sort of lives in his own world.”
B*Witched’s C’est la Vie started to play and I swear to God, this Gibsie boy all but levitated from the couch with excitement, dragging Claire along with him.
“She clearly lives in that world with him,” I mused, feeling myself smile for the first time in weeks, as I watched them.
Bopping around and throwing shapes like nobody was watching, Gibsie and Claire danced around the living room to what was clearly their jam. Him spinning her out and then pulling her back to his chest as they stumble-waltzed to the music.
“I’m guessing they’ve been together since forever, am I right?”
“They’re actually not together at all.”
“Bullshit.” I pointed to where they had moved to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. “Look at that boy. He’s clearly besotted with her, and she’s staring at him all gooey-eyed like he hung the moon.” I shook my head. “Nah, K, they’re clearly doing the deed.”
“I swear,” Katie laughed. “They’re really not.”
I cocked a disbelieving brow as I watched them break into an impressive Irish dancing set jig. Completely in sync with each other’s bodies, and with their entire focus on the other, they laughed and danced it out to the beat, uncaring that a huge portion of their schoolmates were watching them.
“No way,” I choked out a laugh. “Boy moves like lord of the dance.”
“Pretty sure his mam made him take Irish dancing lessons in primary school,” Katie giggled. “There’s a bunch of medals on display in the cabinet in Hugh’s front room from Feis competitions that they competed in.”
“Who? Gibsie and Claire?”
She nodded.
“Aw, they danced together?”
“Uh-huh.” Katie laughed. “Until he hung his dancing shoes up for rugby boots.”
“You’re honestly trying to tell me that those two aren’t in love?”
“I never said they weren’t in love.” Chuckling, she added, “Only that they’re not together.”