“Aoife.”
“No, stop. I’m not going with you, Paul.”
“You’re drunk and that prick is off his head on god knows what,” Paul snarled. “If you think I’m leaving you alone with him, then you’re out of your mind.”
“I’m not leaving with you,” I screamed, losing my patience. “I’m mad at you, remember?”
“So, what?” he demanded. “You’d rather stay here?” His disgusted gaze flicked to Joey. “With him?”
“Why not?” I slurred, patting his stubbly cheek with my hand. “He’s my friend.”
“Your friend?” Paul deadpanned. “He’s not your friend, Aoife. He’s a fucking druggie who’s only out for a good time. I’m your friend. I’m the one who cares about you. I’m your boyfriend. You’re mine, dammit!”
“I’m not your property, Paul,” I screamed over the sound of Mickey Modelle’s dance version of I’ll Tell Me Ma as it blasted from the DJ booth.
His eyes bulged in his head, and he looked like he was about to lose his mind.
“Yes, you fucking are, now let’s go,” he roared, losing his cool with me. “Because there’s no way in hell that I’m allowing you to stay here with him.”
“Allowing me?” I hissed, outraged. “You don’t get to allow me to do anything, Paul. Who the hell do you think you are? I’m my own person. I make the rules for me.”
“Fine,” he attempted to coax. “We can talk about all of it and more outside.” He reached for me again, but this time it was the boy I was leaning against who batted Paul’s hand away – and not gently, either.
“You heard her,” Joey warned in a dangerously cold tone, reaching up to pry my hand off his cheek. How it had got there, I had no clue. “Walk away.”
“Oh, you’re just loving this, aren’t you?” Paul narrowed his eyes.
“You must have a serious death wish, prick-face,” Joey replied in a heated tone, as he took a menacing step towards Paul. “Walk the fuck away before you restart something that I’ll be only too happy to finish.”
“Try it,” Paul snarled back. “You remember who my father is, don’t you?”
“Threatening me with your daddy the Gard?” Joey threw his head back and laughed. “Like I give a fuck.”
“He’s a lot higher up the pecking order than just a Gard,” Paul hissed. “You’d do well to remember that the next time you think about crossing me, Lynchy.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I mumbled, shaking my head, as I squeezed my body between them, feeling the heat emanating from both boys as I pressed a hand to each of their chests. “Don’t even think about starting a fight in here.”
“Who’s trying to cause a fight here, Aoife?” Paul hissed back at me, tone accusing. “Because from where I’m standing, all I’m trying to do is take my drunk girlfriend home. You’re the one making a scene and draped all over the school’s scumbag like he’s your savior. Classy, Aoif, real fucking classy.” Running a hand through his hair, Paul glowered at Joey. “If you think that you’ve one-upped me tonight, Lynchy, you’re wrong. Because this right here,“ he paused to wave a hand between us, before sneering, “doesn’t count. She’s not thinking clearly, and if you have a shred of anything decent about you, then you won’t take advantage of the situation.”
“Hey.” Joey held his hands up and smiled darkly. “All I’m doing is being a good friend to my favorite friend.”
“She’s not your anything.”
“Uh, yes, I am.”
“Hear that, Ricey?” Joey replied, with a shit-eating grin etched on his face. “Your girl here is my anything.”
“Hey,” I snapped, glaring up at Joey. “Not cool.”
He shrugged in response, unapologetic.
“And this is what you want to stay with instead of letting me take you home?” Paul demanded, giving me a look of such disgust that it made me wither. “A year and a half, Aoife. A year and a fucking half and you pick that piece of shit over me?”
“No, Paul, I’m not picking him over you, I’m picking me over you,” I snapped in a shaky tone, as I shook my head, and staggered away from the both of them. “This is over, Paul. Congratulations, you’re a free agent. We’re done.”
“Aoife!” Paul called after me, but I didn’t turn back.
Screw him.
Screw them both.
Shoving my way through the mob, I tried to retrace my steps back to Casey, regretting my decision to come tonight almost as much as the alcohol running through my veins.
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My phone was vibrating next to me.
Narrowing my eyes, I glared down at my phone and quickly pressed end when Paul’s name lit up the screen.
He could go to voicemail, along with the other dozen unanswered calls he’d made, not to mention the seven unread texts.
Thoroughly depressed, I sat on the bonnet of a random car outside of the Pavilion, with a bag of chips balancing on my thighs, as my fishnet-stocking clad legs dangled loosely.
Frozen to the bone, but too drunk to truly appreciate how cold the night air was, I muttered angrily to myself as I chomped on my vinegar-coated chips like a demented lunatic.
I was so fucking mad; I could taste it on my tongue, as I swung my legs so furiously that one of my heels slipped off.
“Fuck,” I slurred, staring down despondently at my shiny white stiletto when it landed in a puddle of muddy rainwater on the ground. “Well, now you can just stay there, you traitorous slut,” I hissed, glaring down at the knock-off leather. “That’s right. I said it. This is all your fault.”
“Well, if it isn’t the angel with her dirty wings,” a familiar voice drawled, and I groaned loudly.
Great.
That’s just great.
Twisting my head, my bleary-eyed gaze locked on none other than Joey Lynch, phone in hand, as he swaggered towards me.
“Fighting with your shadow again, Molloy?”
“I’ll fight you,” I grumbled, reaching behind me to check that my wings were still intact. “My wings are fine, asshole.”
“Got a spare chip?”
“Nope, not for you,” I growled, stuffing a fistful of chips into my mouth in a very unladylike way. “They’re all mine.”
“What are you doing out here on your own?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, jackass; I’m clearly sulking,” I huffed, voice still slightly slurred from the alcohol in my belly. “What are you doing?”
Shrugging, he slid his phone into his jeans pocket. “Waiting for a friend.”
“Oh, so you have friends?” I rolled my eyes. “I thought you were opposed to the idea.”
With an amused expression etched on his sickeningly good-looking face, Joey strolled over to where I was sitting. “Ah, that’s not entirely true.” Winking, he reached into my bag and swiped a chip. “I’m only opposed to you, Molloy.”
That small act of theft caused an unreasonable surge of violence to grow inside of me.