“The boys in third year have good taste.”
“How long have you been together?”
“A few months.”
“Is it serious?”
“Define serious?”
“Are you exclusive?”
“Yeah, we are.”
“So, no other girls tucked away to one side?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No other girls.”
“Wow, Joe.” She waggled her brows. “It kind of sounds like you might be in looooove?”
“I am.”
“Oh my god.” Her eyes bulged. “I was half expecting you to deny it.”
“There’s no point.” I shrugged. “I love the girl. It is what it is.”
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like, Shan?”
“Being in love,” she sighed, resting her chin on her small hand, thoroughly invested in the conversation now. “What does it feel like?”
I cocked a brow. “Of all the things we could talk about, you want to talk about feelings?”
“Please,” she begged. “Just humor me.”
“Alright.” Shifting around awkwardly, I took a sip from my coke, while I thought about it for a moment. “It’s painful.”
Her eyes widened to saucers. “Painful?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But it’s the kind of pain that’s worth feeling, you know?”
She blew out a breath. “Really?”
“It’s like you know you’re about to get your ass handed to you by exposing yourself to this person, and you know that you’re fucking around on the edge of something that could potentially break and ruin you, but it’s just so damn thrilling, so consumingly addicting, that you’re willing to take the risk and do just about anything to be with that person.”
“Wow,” she mused in a dreamy tone. “That’s so great, Joe.”
“It’s actually pretty terrible,” I offered dryly. “You should avoid it like the plague.”
Shannon laughed and then asked, “So, is Aoife the reason…” Clearing her throat, she said in a much quieter tone, “you decided to, ah, well, you know…” she cupped her hands around her mouth before whispering, “don’t hang out with Shane Holland and those guys?”
She’s certainly the reason why I’ve become so good at hiding it.
“Yeah, Shan,” I said, feeling like a piece of shit. “She is.”
STAY WITH ME
OCTOBER 31ST 2004
AOIFE
It was Halloween night, and, after keeping Joe company while he took his little brothers out trick or treating, we had spent the rest of the night at Biddies bar, necking shots, and having fun with our friends.
Fancy dress had been optional, but I had no doubt that the slutty nurse’s outfit I’d been donning had a lot to do with our current status.
Drunk on alcohol, love, and the fantastic taste of his tongue in my mouth, I kissed him back with everything I had in me, as our bodies collided in a heap on his bed.
This was what it was like when we collided.
It either ended in us fighting or fucking.
And I was down for both.
Groaning loudly, we ripped and tore at each other’s clothes until we were naked, with him buried to the hilt inside me.
“Fuck, Molloy, I want you so bad, I can’t see straight.”
That would be the vodka that had hindered his ability to see straight, but I understood the sentiment, even if I was too drunk to say so.
“Give it to me,” I hissed, biting down hard on his lip, needing him to be rough and hard with me tonight. “I want it rough.”
Gone were the days of gentle touching and nervous missionary positions, where I laid beneath him and prayed his big dick wouldn’t break me open.
No, because my boyfriend had been inside of my body enough times that I knew exactly what I wanted from him, and he was never less than one hundred percent willing to oblige.
Hooking one of my legs over his shoulder with one arm, Joey grabbed my hip with his free hand and thrust into me so fast and furiously that the familiar sound of my head smacking off the headboard, and subsequently the headboard cracking off the wall, filled the room.
Beyond aroused by the boy between my legs, I reached out and clutched the sheets, needing to find something to ground me, as my body flooded with heat.
“I want that whore out!”
My breath hitched in my throat when I heard the familiar voice bellowing from the other side of his bedroom door.
"I want that cunt out of my house."
Bang, bang, bang.
"Do ya hear me, boy?"
Bang!
"Get that whore out of my house!"
Just like that, every muscle in Joey's body coiled tight with tension, and he was gone from me.
Pulling out, he sat back on his knees, hands resting on my bare thighs. His chest was heaving, his face still swollen and bruised from the last time they’d fought.
“Ignore him,” I begged, more for his sake than mine. “Joe.“
"I can’t," he whispered, shaking his head. "I can't hear that." His voice cracked, and he drew in several sharp breaths. "I'm going to kill him."
"No." Breathing hard, I sat up and cupped the back of his neck with both hands. "It's okay." Dragging his toned body back down on mine, I held his face between my hands and forced him to look at me, "Just concentrate on us."
"Molloy." Trembling, he shook his head and rested his weight on his elbow. "I can't let him say that about you."
"I don’t care," I hurried to soothe. "Fuck him. I don’t give a damn about what he thinks of me."
"But I—"
"Just stay here, Joe," I begged, wrapping my legs tightly around him, desperate to keep him with me.
I knew what would happen if he left this room and my heart couldn't take it.
Sliding a hand between us, I slowly pumped his shaft before guiding him back inside me. "It's okay." Thrusting my hips upward, I used my body to keep him safe. "Just be with me."
A hand clamped down on my hip, tugging me flush against him.
He was so warm.
Smelled so good.
"Get that cunt out of my house, ya little bastard!"
Exhaling a pained groan, Joey clenched his eyes and buried his face in my neck. "Aoif—"
"I love you, Joey Lynch," I whispered, cradling his face to my neck as he thrust inside me, hips moving almost frantically. "I love you so much."
My heart cracked clean open when I felt the first tear land on my collarbone, followed by another and another.
He was still moving inside me, still taking what he needed from me, but he was broken.
And I was terrified that I couldn't fix him.
STEPPING OUT AND STEPPING UP
NOVEMBER 30TH 2004
JOEY
“Mam.”
Standing in the doorway of her bedroom, I resisted the urge to walk over there and tip the mattress and force her to get out of that goddamn bed.
By some small grace of God, the old man had walked out on our mother three nights ago. He declared that we could all burn to death for all he cared because he’d found himself a real woman.
If I could have packed his bags and walked him to the door, I would have.