“Are you okay?” I heard myself ask, heart racing, as I looked down at where he was sprawled out, what I presumed, naked under Danielle’s pink floral duvet.
The covers were draped over his hips, leaving the rest of his body exposed, and revealing a huge crucifix tattoo on his back.
“No,” Joey groaned, keeping his face buried in the sheets. “Fuck.”
Exhaling a shaky breath, I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “What did you take?”
“I fucked up, Molloy,” he slurred, twisted his head from side to side. “Again.”
“Yeah, you did.” Sighing heavily, I placed my hand on his shoulder, and watched as the muscles in his back physically tensed under my touch. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”
My breath hitched in my throat at the sight when my gaze landed on a long, five- or six-inch scar going diagonally across his back. It was concealed behind the crucifix tattoo, but if you looked close enough it was plain to see.
“Is that from a belt?” I heard myself whisper, not even trying to stop myself from trailing a finger over the other deep ridges and grooved scars that seemed to be littered across his flesh. Most seemed old, like they had been imprinted on him a long time ago, but some of them were more recent. “And this one?”
“Probably,” he mumbled drowsily “Don’t look.”
“What happened to your back, Joe?” Heart in my mouth, I continued to trail my fingers over his marred skin, feeling the ache in my chest spread as the seconds passed by. “Where did all these scars come from – and don’t say fighting.”
“Fighting,” he said anyway, before rolling onto his back. “Christ, my head is hopping.”
“Yeah,” I replied, reaching up to smooth his blond hair back. “I bet it is.”
“You’re really here.” He cracked a lid open and peered up at me. “Thought I dreamt you up.” And then he looked at me, completely spaced out of his mind, with lipstick smeared across his mouth and cheek. “Hey.”
“Hey.” My stomach bottomed out at the sight. “You shouldn’t give yourself away to the likes of her,” I whispered, giving him back the words he’d spoken to me a long time ago.
A flash of recognition filled his eyes, causing his nostrils to flare. “Molloy.”
“It hurts,” I admitted softly, reaching down to rub the lipstick off him. “This hurts me.”
“I would never hurt you, Molloy,” he slurred, his words a lot like his life, a broken mess. “I’d rather die than hurt you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.” Releasing a pained groaned, he croaked out, “Only thing I’ve ever done right in my life is leave you alone.”
My eyes filled with tears, and I quickly blinked them away, but not before one lone tear dripped from my cheek and landed on his bare chest.
“You’re crying.” A bleary sort of anxiety filled his features as he slowly pulled himself up on his elbows. “Why? What did I do?”
“I’m grand.” Shaking my head, I tucked my hair behind my ear, feeling his hot breath on my cheek. “I’m okay.”
He looked around us then, his eyes raking in the unfamiliar bedroom, as confusion swept over him. “Did I?” His gaze settled back on mine, wild and panicked, as he sat straight up. “Did we?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I forced out the bitter truth, “Not us.”
“Fuck.” His body visibly sagged. “Molloy.”
“Don’t stay here.” My breath hitched in my throat, and I dropped my gaze to the mattress, to where the smell of sex was still in the air. “In this bed.” I exhaled a ragged breath, hating the plea as it came stumbling out of my mouth, “With her.”
Joey tipped my chin up and forced me to look at him, as he stared so hard the green orbs of his iris’s darkened to coal.
“Okay,” he finally said, thumb stroking over the curve of my bottom lip, as I leaned my cheek into his big hand. “I won’t.”
SPECIAL_IMAGE-images/svgimg0003.svg-REPLACE_ME
A little while later, I was walking the familiar trek back to my house.
With his hood pulled up, and his hands shoved into the front of his hoodie, Joey looked exactly like he always did when he walked me home.
A little pissed off, and a lot sexy.
I didn’t have the energy to joke around with him tonight, though, or even speak.
So instead, we walked in silence with a cloud of bitterness hanging over our heads.
“Thanks,” I said when we reached my gate. “For walking me home, and, um, well, you know.”
“It’s grand.” He kept his hands in his pockets, as he watched me close the garden gate behind me. “I’ll see you at school next week.”
“Yeah.” Nodding, I lingered in front of the gate, watching him watch me. “I suppose you will.”
He nodded stiffly, but made no move to leave, and neither did I.
“I thought I hurt you tonight,” he finally said, breaking the heavy silence between us. “When I woke up and saw you there? I thought I did something we couldn’t take back. I was so fucking relieved when you told me that we didn’t.” Exhaling a heavy sigh, he added, “But the way you’re looking at me right now makes me wish we had.” He shook his head and turned to walk away. “At least if we had, then I could understand the disappointed look in your eyes.”
“Joe.” I sucked in a sharp breath as he started to walk away. “Joey, wait I—”
“I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy,” he called over his shoulder.
And then he was gone.
I WILL ALWAYS STICK UP FOR YOU
JANUARY 7TH 2004
JOEY
“Hey, Joe, have you seen your sister?”
Seven words I had learned to fear, especially if they were spoken at school.
Shoulders stiffening to the point of spasm, I stopped unraveling the new grip on my hurley, and glanced up at Danielle.
“Why?” My tone was hard and flat as I crouched on the grass, clad in my school jersey, shorts, socks, and football boots. I was about to head out for training with the rest of the school team. “What happened?”
“She’s bawling her eyes out in the bathroom.”
Again?
“Why?” I demanded, rising to my feet, and towering over the petite, blue-eyed blonde in front of me.
Chewing on her lip, Danielle gestured towards the school building. “I’m not entirely sure what happened, but I heard she and Ciara Maloney had a few words.”
“A few words?” Reaching for the clasp on my helmet, I snapped it open and ripped it off my head. “Any chance these words turned into a few slaps?”
Danielle shrugged, looking nervous. “Listen, I don’t want to get involved, okay. I don’t want to get on anyone’s bad side. I’m only telling you because you’re a friend.”
Friend?
That was a stretch.
Friends cared about each other.
I could count the people I considered my friends on one hand.
My sister was one.
Podge was another.
Alec, thick as shit that he was, still made the cut.
Tony Molloy, for obvious reasons.