“Like what?”
“Like they have heartbreak written all over them.”
“So, in other words, spend the next six years of secondary school living like a priest,” I grumbled, breaking free of him when we reached the school. “Where do I sign up?”
“Hey, that’s what I did,” my brother chuckled, thoroughly amused by my disgust. “It worked well for me.”
“Because you’re shit craic,” I told him. “Seriously, Dar. It’s a wonder we’re related at all.”
“Well, we are,” he reminded me before pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll always be your brother, no matter what, okay? Don’t ever forget it.”
“What did I tell you?” I hissed, scrambling away from him before anyone saw me hugging my brother of all people. “I should follow through and kick you in the nuts for that.”
“Take care of yourself.” His voice was thick with emotion as he watched me scowl at him. “I love you.”
“Jesus, relax with the love bullshit,” I grumbled, feeling acutely uncomfortable. “I’m starting secondary school, asshole, you’re not sending me off to war.”
He nodded stiffly. “I know.”
Feeling off-balance, I eyed him warily before shaking my head and walking off in the direction of the entrance.
Stop.
Don’t go.
Something’s wrong.
Turn back.
This is all wrong.
“Dar?” Hovering uncertainly, I turned back to find him already walking away. “I’ll see you after school, yeah?”
My brother didn’t answer.
“Dar?”
He didn’t turn back to look at me, either.
“Darren?”
Instead, he pulled his hood up and kept walking away from me.
“So, is that guy your keeper, or can you think for yourself?” a female voice asked, and I spun around to find none other than blondie from the wall standing in front of me – and holy fuck if she wasn’t even better looking close up.
With all notions of Darren’s weird farewell long forgotten, I focused entirely on the face looking up at me.
High cheekbones, pink pouty lips, big green eyes, and hair that looked like something out of a magazine, she was, hands down, the best-looking thing my eyes had ever seen. “I can definitely think for myself.”
“You saw me back there,” she stated evenly, green eyes snaring me.
“I did.”
“You kept walking.”
I nodded like a fool. “I did.”
“Don’t do that again.”
Fuck me. “I won’t.”
She looked me over once more before nodding in approval. “You’re beautiful.”
Well shit. “Likewise.”
“Hm.” Her lips tipped up. “So, do you have a name, boy-who-can-think-for-himself?”
“Does it matter?” I countered, needing to regain some ground I had lost to this powerhouse of a girl. “We both know that you’ll be calling me baby by the end of the day.”
She licked her lips to bury her smile. “Is that so?”
I stepped closer. “You tell me, blondie.”
Now, she did, and it was a glorious sight. “Okay, that was seriously smooth.”
I smirked. “Thanks.”
“I’m Aoife,” she laughed, holding her hand out to me.
“Joey,” I replied, accepting her small hand in mine.
“Joey.” Shaking my hand, she tilted her head to one side, and studied me without a hint of shyness. “Your name suits you.”
“I could say the same thing about you,” I replied. “Your name means radiance and beauty, right?”
She grinned. “You know your Irish.”
Yeah, I knew my Irish, but not that well.
There had been a girl in my class at primary school named Aoife, who had constantly droned on about how she had been named after an Irish warrior queen, with a level of beauty that was rumored to rival that of Helen of Troy.
I wasn’t, however, about to tell this particular Aoife that.
Not when I needed every advantage I could get.
“So, what class have you been assigned to?” she asked, retrieving her folded-up timetable from the pocket of her short, pleated skirt. “I’m in First Year 3.”
Fuck if I knew.
I straightened out the crumpled-up ball of paper that was my class timetable for the school year. I was fucking thrilled when I read the words First Year 3 on the page. “Same here.”
She was in my class.
Get in there!
Maybe my luck was changing.
“So, you’re as mediocre a student as I am,” she laughed. “My brother got assigned to First Year 1. That’s the class for the brainiacs.”
“You’re a twin?”
She nodded. “For my sins.”
“So, we’re the third smartest class?”
“Or the third thickest,” she laughed. “Whichever way your glass is filled.”
“Why? How many classes has our year been split into?”
“Four.”
“Jesus,” I laughed. “That doesn’t say much for us, does it?”
“Nope.” She grinned back at me. “Not a whole pile. So, what primary school are you coming from?”
“Sacred Heart,” I replied. “You?”
“St. Bernadette’s,” she said with a grimace. “That’s the—“
“All-girls primary school run by the nuns outside of the town?” I winced in sympathy. “Well, that’s shit luck on you, huh?”
“Yep. Eight years with the nuns. Can’t you see my halo shining?”
“Oh yeah, it’s blinding.”
“According to Sister Alphonsus, I should be continuing my education in an all-girls environment,” she mused with a devilish smile. “Apparently, I have a wild streak in me, with a penchant for the male form that no amount of prayer can eliminate.” She rolled her eyes. “All because I said I thought the guy playing Jesus in a movie they showed us was gorgeous.”
I arched a brow. “Gorgeous?”
“What?” she laughed. “He was.”
“Well, it sounds to me like you need to spend less time on your knees praying and more time —“
“Don’t say it,” she warned reaching up to cover my mouth with her hand.
“With the male form,” I chuckled, peeling her fingers off my lips with my hand.
“So, should I spend more time with the male form in general?” she laughed, and somehow our fingers were entwined now. “Or with you? Because it’s safe to say that I’m impressed with the male form standing in front of me.”
“Is that your way of telling me that you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“No, it’s my way of telling you that I will have a boyfriend once you ask me.”
“Jesus.” My heartrate sped up. “You’re not backwards about anything, are you?”
She winked and slid her school bag off her shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Thrown off kilter by this girl, I took the bag she held out for me and slung it over my free shoulder.
“There,” she said with an approving nod, admiring her bright pink bag on my shoulder. “That should do it.”