Binding 13: Boys of Tommen #1

I was in a horrible mood on Monday morning that was partially propelled by the god-awful pain I was in, but mostly attributed to the fact that I hadn’t closed an eye last night.

All night, I had tossed and turned over Shannon.

All bleeding night, I laid awake with only my regrets to keep me company – and that bleeding picture from the paper.

I should have stopped her.

I shouldn’t have let him take her.

Why, I had no bleeding clue, but there was a voice inside my head screaming at me to protect her.

I wanted to.

I just didn’t know what I needed to protect her from.

Or who.

I was completely fucking clueless, armed and ready to go to war for a girl I didn’t know, against an enemy no one would tell me about.

Jesus, I was so fucked in the head from her.

It was getting out of hand.

She was disrupting my perfectly content way of life, and I didn’t fucking know how to cope with it.

The girl fucked with my head and made me weak and swayable.

It wasn’t right, and she had no business coming into my life at this pivotal point.

She was like a tornado I never saw coming.

The one problem I didn’t foresee when making my plans.

The one person who could fracture all my hard work.

And the most nerve-wrecking thing about it all was that I liked it.

I liked the fact that she was turning my life on its axis and encouraging never seen before notions and feelings inside of me, and then I hated that I liked it.

I was thoroughly addicted to every single thing about the girl and it had nothing to do with the physical – and the physical was pretty fucking perfect.

Most importantly, she didn’t look at me like I was a meal ticket.

She looked right through all the bullshit.

Seeing me.

Seeing only me.

And that made me want to move some shit around and place her slap bang in the middle of my world.

I knew I needed to get a fucking handle on myself.

Except I couldn’t.

Because she was addictive.

And I was obsessed.

I’d lost count of the number of lads I’d played rugby with down through the seasons that had dropped out or lost form over a girl.

I couldn’t afford to let that happen to me.

There was too much at stake.

Everything was at stake.

Before Shannon, I never had any problem concentrating.

Before her, I had never been uncertain about a thing.

I knew exactly who I was, where I had come from, and where I was going.

And now?

Now I was a mess.

I didn’t need this.

I didn’t need this fucking stress.

I had fitness exams in less than three weeks’ time that I needed to focus on.

Exams that if I didn’t pass, put my whole future in jeopardy.

That’s what I needed to be focusing on.

My career.

Not a girl.

By the time I made it to school, I was distracted, off balance, and freaking the fuck out.

There was something very wrong with me and I needed an immediate intervention.

“I need a favor,” were the first words that came out of my mouth when I found Gibsie outside the woodwork room before first class. “Seriously!” Exhaling a harsh breath, I shoved him down the hallway towards the fifth-year common area. “You need to help me.”

“Okay, but I have class in two minutes,” Gibsie complained, shuffling along in front of me.

“So have I, Gibs,” I snapped, steering him into the, thankfully, empty common room. “Double accounting with Moggy Dan. But this is far more urgent than me balancing spreadsheets and you designing a fucking coffee table for your Ma.”

“Alright, lad, relax,” he coaxed. Shaking out of his hold, he walked over to one of tables and pulled out a chair. Dropping his bag on the floor, he sat down and faced me. “I’m all ears.”

Slamming the door closed behind us, I grabbe

d a leather armchair and shoved it against the door before dropping into the chair.

“You were right, Gibs,” I groaned. “I’m so screwed.”

“I am?” His brows shot up in surprise. “About what?” Before I had a chance to respond, his eyes widened in comical awareness. “About you fucking yourself?” Or at least, it would have been comical if it wasn’t so fucking depressing. “Holy shit, Johnny. You haven’t or you can’t?”

“I tried, I failed, I haven’t tried since, so now I’m fairly sure I can’t,” I decided to throw out there.

There was no goddamn point in trying to evade the question.

He wasn’t going to let it go, and I had bigger issues right now than my temperamental testosterone.

“How long has it been?”

“Before Christmas,” I quickly replied before saying, “but that’s not the problem here.”

“Jesus, Kav, I’d say that’s a very big problem, lad.” Gibsie let out a low whistle. “Have you tried lube?”

“What – no! Stop talking about my dick,” I barked, then ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “It’s her, man. You were right. I am completely fucked in the head, and I need you to stop me from doing something stupid with that girl.”

“Which girl?”

“Which girl do you think, asshole?” I snarled. “Shannon.”

“Oh, that girl.” Gibsie chuckled. “The resurrectionator.”

“Stop laughing. It’s not funny. I need your help,” I snapped, flustered. “And resurrectionator is not a word.”

“Yes, it is,” Gibsie challenged. “Jesus was resurrected. It was a resurrection performed by God: the resurrectionator. Similar to Shannon: the resurrectionator of your bollocks that day outside the P.E hall.” Snickering, he added in a deep voice, “She shall appear and he shall arise.”

“Which made God a resurrectionist and/or a resurrector,” I growled. “Nowhere in the English language was he called a bleeding resurrectionator.”

“I’m talking about the bible, not the dictionary.”

“You’re talking out of your hole,” I countered.

“The terminator is called the fucking terminator, asshole,” Gibsie shot back. “Not the bloody terminist.”

“Terminist,” I mused. “Another word that’s not a word.”

“Well, resurrectionator is a word.”

“No, it bleeding well isn’t.” I shook my head, aggravated. “It’s not phonetically or grammatically correct.”

“Grammatically correct?” Gibsie balked at me. “Look at you, Mister Higher-Level English, thinking you know everything with your Great Gatsby and Shakespeare. Well, not this time.” He tapped his temple. “This time, I’m the smart one.”

“It’s called basic comprehension, Mister Foundation-Level English, and I’m telling you now, that you are wrong.”

He scratched his head.

“Concentrate, Gibs,” I ordered. “I need your help here, man.”

“I can’t,” he grumbled, brows set in a deep frown. “I know I’m right, Johnny – I go to mass every Sunday, you know.”

“Good for you,” I mocked. “Maybe you should pray to Jesus for some common sense –” My words fell off my tongue when he stalked over to me and dragged my seat out of the way. “Dammit, Gibs!” I barked. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To the library,” he shot back, yanking the door open. “You’re wrong. I’m googling it. And then I’m printing it off and posting it all over the fucking school,” he added as he sauntered out of the room. “Watch me resurrect the truth.”

“Fine,” I muttered wearily. “Go for it.”

Less than ten minutes later, Gibsie returned with a sheepish expression.

“It’s not a word,” he announced, stalking back through the doorway.

“I know,” I deadpanned. “Now that you have that worked out of your system, do you think you can you help me?”

“I just don’t get it,” Gibsie groaned, plopping into the armchair across from mine. “How is it not a word?”

“Gibsie, please!”

“I just want the word, Johnny.”

“Fine, it’s your word,” I agreed, exasperated. “You can have it. Fucking call the Oxford Dictionary and trademark the bleeding word for all I care. Just help me.”

“Yeah, well, I might just do that,” Gibsie huffed, running a hand through his blond hair. “Right, tell me about your problem.”

I exhaled a heavy sigh. “I like her.”

“Okaaay,” he drawled. “Tell me what the problem is?”

“That’s my problem,” I bit out. “I like her, Gibs. I think I really like her, man. Like really as in a lot. A lot more than fucking like. Christ!”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Still not seeing the problem here, lad.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Like. Her,” I spelled it out for him, fresh out of patience now.

“Because she’s fifteen and you’re seventeen?”

“She’s sixteen,” I admitted with a groan. “Her birthday was yesterday.”

“Then you know the age thing is horseshit, don’t you?” Gibsie countered. “You’re clutching at straws, lad. The age thing is a big fat excuse because yer one Shannon has you rattled and you’re panicking because you’ve never felt rattled a day in your life.”

“I am rattled,” I admitted without hesitation. “Completely fucking rattled.”

“This is brilliant,” Gibsie chuckled gleefully, thoroughly enjoying my rare breakdown.

“It’s not a laughing matter,” I snapped.

“Are you kidding me?” he snorted. “It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in ages.”

Noticing my murderous expression, he stopped laughing and gestured for me to continue.

Jerking forward, I ignored the pain in my groin and rested my elbows on my thighs. “I drove her home the other week, lad. She missed her bus over that stunt McGarry pulled outside the bathrooms, and I couldn’t leave her there –”

“And you’re only telling me now?” he accused.

I shrugged helplessly. “I know I should have walked away, but I didn’t. I put her in my car and we talked – for hours. And not just about rugby, Gibs. About all random, pointless bullshit that should have bored me to tears. It didn’t. It was just like that day when I knocked her out and I spent an hour outside Twomey’s office talking to her, except better because she was in her full senses. She is so goddamn easy to talk to, Gibs. Like you wouldn’t believe.” I released a heavy sigh and said, “I didn’t want to let her go, lad.”

Gibsie rubbed his jaw. “Shit.”

“Exactly.” Leaning forward, I loosely clasped my hands together and stared at my best friend. “In all the years you’ve known me, Gibs, when has that ever happened to me?”

“It’s definitely a first for you,” he agreed, expression thoughtful.

“It gets worse,” I grumbled.

“Worse?” He frowned. “How?”

“I told her about my surgery.”

Gibsie’s brows shot up. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “I told her everything and then I lost my shit on her.”

“Why?”

“I panicked, Gibs,” I shot back defensively. “It slipped out and I totally fucking panicked. You know what would happen if word got back to the U20’s coaches that I’m not fully fit.”

Not that it mattered much now, I thought bitterly. If I didn’t get my shit together, my dreams were down the drain.

“And you think she’d talk?” he asked.

“Honestly, no, man. I don’t think she’s the kind of girl who talks about anybody,” I told him. “But I’m always so careful, and I lost my head and it freaked me out. I was more annoyed with myself than anything and overreacted.” Dropping my head in shame, I added, “I’m pretty sure I made her cry.”

“So, you screwed yourself?”

“You would think,” I mumbled. “But then she walked up to me at school the following morning and apologized to me.”

“Why?”

“Fuck if I know, lad.”

“Did you set her straight?”

“Couldn’t, she walked off before I had a chance, ” I muttered. “And then I did it again on Friday.”

“Did what?”

“Put her in my car,” I admitted.

“Well, shit.”

“And then I went one further.”

“How?” Gibsie eyed me warily. “What did you do, Johnny?”

“I dropped her home.” Expelling another frustrated breath, I sagged back in my seat and groaned. “But then I snatched her back.”

“What the fuck?”

“I know,” I barked. “I know.”

“How do you snatch a girl, Johnny?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Fuck knows, but I did it.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t let her go,” I admitted truthfully, keeping out the part about Shannon being sick. “I couldn’t let her leave me, lad.”

“Did you ride her?”

“What did I just tell you about my dick?”

“Okay, did you try and ride her?”

“What–no!” I barked. “I took her to Biddies, asshole.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Gibsie shot back. “This is me you’re talking to, lad. I’m well fucking aware of what goes on at the place.” Snickering, he added, “I’m usually in the middle of it.”

“No, I didn’t bleeding ride her. And don’t say ride.”

“Why not?”

“Not about her.” Leaning back, I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Just…not about her, okay?”

“Alright, did you make sweet love to her?” he taunted. “In the carpark? Or the toilets? Or that sweet spot in the back of the lounge?”

“You are a gobshite,” I growled. “A complete and utter gobshite.”

“Oh, my Jesus!” Gibsie cringed and slapped a hand across his mouth. “Oh no,” he groaned. “It wouldn’t work, would it?”

“My dick works, Gibs!” I snapped. “I get hard, asshole. It just hurts when I –”

“When you what?” he asked, eyes wide.

“I can’t finish,” I muttered.

“You can’t come?” he choked out. “Like at all?”

“I mean, I suppose I could if I tried.” I sighed dejectedly. “But the last time I tried it was so painful that I puked my guts up and almost passed out.”

“Jesus. When was the last time you tried?”

“St. Stephen’s Night.”

“Holy shit,” Gibsie gasped. “Johnny, that was months ago. You need to come, lad.”

“Don’t you fucking think I know that?” I bit out. “It’s not like I’m enjoying this, Gibs.”

“That’s unnatural.”

“Yeah, Gibs, it’s my dick. I’m well aware how abnormal it is.”

“No wonder you’re limping,” he muttered. “Your balls are so full of spunk they’re weighing you down.”

“Not fucking funny, Gibs.”

“Oh, Jesus. What if they sewed you back together wrong?” he hissed, eyes bulging. “Fuck, lad, what if they snipped a sperm chord when they were messing around near your bal

l sac?”

“A sperm chord?” I gaped at him. “The fuck kind of drugs are you taking?”

“I read up on that procedure, you know,” he stated, looking horrified. “So many things can go wrong–”

“No.” I shook my head, burying my terror. “They can’t.”

“Yeah, lad,” he choked out. “They really fucking can. They cut you so close to your –”

“Can you stop!” I barked, shuddering now. “Jesus Christ, I can’t hear this.”

“I’m sorry.” Smothering a grimace, he waved a hand at me and said, “Finish telling me about what happened with Shannon.”

“I didn’t touch her.” Shifting uncomfortably, I muttered, “But I wanted to.” I dropped my head in my hands and groaned. “After Biddies, I knew I needed to drop her home, but I couldn’t, Gibs. I fucking couldn’t. So I took her to the bleeding cinema instead. I just…needed more time with her, you know? Like, it wasn’t enough. I needed more…”

“More?” He cocked a brow. “More of what, Johnny?”

“More of her,” I replied glumly. “It’s all more when it comes to her.” I shook my head and sighed heavily. “Jesus, I want her so fucking bad I can’t think straight, Gibs.”

“Balls,” Gibsie mused.

“And I beat the living shit out of some prick from her old school at the bar,” I admitted.

“You fucking idiot,” Gibsie snapped. “Did anyone see?”

“Liam,” I muttered, tugging on my hair. “I lost it, lad. They said something about her, and I lost complete and utter control of my senses.”

“You’re lucky it didn’t get back to Dennehy,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, Gibs,” I grumbled. “I’m well aware of how close I came to screwing myself.”

Don’t need anyone else to tell me…

“And yesterday?” he asked. “At your house? What was that about?”

I shook my head and sank back in my chair. “Her Ma had a miscarriage.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged helplessly. “He took her away from me.”

“Who took her?”

“Joey, the hurler.”

“Well, he is her brother, lad,” Gibsie offered. “He was obviously going to come back for her.”

“I don’t give a shite,” I snapped, thinking about her bruised face. “I didn’t want her to leave, Gibs, and he just took her away from me. And I let him!”

“You do know that you’re not allowed to keep humans as pets, don’t you?” he asked in a wry tone. “You know that’s just dogs and cats, right?”

“Fuck. Right. Off,” I growled.

“Relax,” he muttered. “I was messing with you.”

“Well it’s not fucking funny, Gibs,” I shot back. “None of this is fun. It took everything in me to let her go with her brother last night. Fucking everything.”

“Well, lad,” Gibsie finally said, blowing out a breath. “On a bright note, at least you can finally admit that you like her.”

“But I don’t want to bleeding like her,” I bit out. “That’s the whole point. I don’t have time for liking her. I can’t have her taking up my headspace, Gibs. You know what’s at stake for me. I need to stay on track, and that girl makes my mind stray so far off the beaten track it’s ridiculous.”

I’m already in trouble.

“Well, obviously, you don’t have any control of that,” Gibsie responded in an oddly serious tone. “Can’t help who you like, Johnny. That’s life.”

“Not my life,” I argued weakly. “That’s not how I work.”

“That’s how we all work,” he corrected.

“Thing is, Shannon’s not just some random girl, Gibs,” I strangled out. “She’s different. She’s not a hook-up, or a fuck and chuck, or a clinger looking for a leg up. I can’t fuck her out of my system. She doesn’t even know who I am, lad. She had no fucking clue. And it was genuine. She wasn’t putting it on. I’ve met enough of those clingers to last me a lifetime and I could tell she was clueless.” I shook my head and sagged against the leather. “And aside from all that, she’s fragile.”

“Fragile?”

“Fragile,” I confirmed, unwilling to give any more information.

“Is it because of whatever you read in that file?”

I glared at him, tensing.

“Relax,” he coaxed, holding his hands up. “I never read it. I just handed it back to Dee.”

I exhaled heavily and nodded. “Just believe me when I tell you that girl is a line I cannot cross.”

“Then don’t,” Gibsie replied after a long pause. “If she’s messing you up this bad when you hardly know her, then you’re better off walking away now, lad.”

“That’s the thing, lad…I don’t know if I can,” I admitted hoarsely. “You know what I’m like when I get something into my head. I lose the run of myself and go all in.”

“I sure do,” Gibsie chuckled. “You bulldoze. Everything and everyone that gets in your way.”

“Well, stop me!”

“Stop yourself,” Gibsie snorted. “Flex that famous self-control.” Grinning he added, “You’ve had plenty of it lately.”

“You don’t get it, Gibs. Last night almost killed me. I swear, I spent the entire night wide awake, staring at my keys and forcing myself to stay in my bed and not drive over there and bring her home with me,” I admitted glumly. “I don’t have an ounce of self-restraint when it comes to her – which is why I need your help.”

“So, what are you asking me to do here, Johnny?” he asked, smirking. “Are you saying you want me to cockblock you?”

“I’m saying that if you see me bulldozing over any lines, pull me back,” I bit out. “I don’t trust myself around her.”

“You do realize that the lines that exist between the two of you are the ones you’ve drawn in your head?”

“I can’t go there with her, Gibs, and I won’t.”

“You’re serious?”

I nodded. “She’s too fucking dangerous to me.”

“Because?”

“I just told you!” I snapped.

“No.” He shook his head slowly. “You basically just went around in circles there, lad.” Shrugging, he added, “I haven’t heard a decent argument against her yet.”

I didn’t answer him for three reasons.

The first, he wouldn’t understand.

Second, he wouldn’t believe me.

Third, I wasn’t sure I believed me.

“So, you’re happy to just step back and watch McGarry or some other clown at school make a move?” Gibsie asked then. “You’re completely fine with that?”

The way my body automatically coiled tight with tension was enough of an answer.

“She’s a gorgeous girl, Johnny, with a lot of interest directed her way,” Gibsie stated calmly. “Can’t have it both ways, lad.” He shrugged. “You either want her or you don’t. You either go for it, or step back.”

“No,” I snarled, tensing.

It was all I could say.

Just plain no.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to try the whole girlfriend thing out with her?” he asked.

“It wouldn’t work,” I groaned. “Aside from the fact that I’m too old for her, and she probably doesn’t feel the same, I’m too busy and too unavailable to commit to anything even remotely resembling a relationship.”

“Says who?”

“You know what my life is like, Gibs.” I exhaled another heavy sigh. “You know why I’m unattached. It’s too much pressure and I can’t afford to lose focus. I don’t have a spare hour in the day, and once the summer comes, I’ll be out of here.” I shrugged helplessly. “How’s that fair on any girl?”

“True,” Gibsie mused. “But she’s clearly not just any girl.”

“Exactly,” I gritted out. “She’s too… more …too… better…important –” Breaking off, I rubbed a hand over my face. “It would never work,” I finally said, tone weary. “I would end up leaving, they would write a ton of shit in the papers and online like they always do while I’m gone, she would get paranoid, I would get pissed, she would end up getting hurt, and we would both end up completely fucking miserable.”

“Whoa,” Gibsie breathed. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

Every minute of the day since I first laid eyes on her.

I nodded glumly.

“Then be

her friend,” he offered.

I snapped my head up. “Her friend?”

“Yes, asshole, her friend,” Gibsie drawled sarcastically. “You are aware of the concept of friendship? Believe it or not, you’re actually fairly good at it. And if anything more is off the cards, and you can’t stay away from her, then the friendship card is your best bet.”

“But she’s a girl, Gibs.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Johnny, I know.”

“I don’t have any girls who are friends.”

“Well then, she can be your first.”

I pondered the thought.

Could I be Shannon’s friend?

Could I just be her friend?

“Friends,” I repeated, lifting my gaze to his. “I guess I could give it a shot?”

“Now you’re talking,” Gibsie encouraged with a pleased smile.

I could be her friend.

I would be a good friend to her.

I could make life easier for her.

I wanted to do that for her.

“But what if she doesn’t want to be my friend?” I asked, feeling that unfamiliar swell of uncertainty that seemed to accompany any thoughts I had of that girl.

“Keep that pathetic, shit-talk up and I won’t want to be your friend, you big vagina,” Gibsie snorted. “What if she doesn’t want to be my friend,” he mocked and then snorted, “Go home and find your balls – remember who the fuck you are – and while you’re at it, have a pull on your dick, too. Even if you pass out from the pain, having an orgasm has to be worth it.”

“So, you’ll help me?” I asked, choosing to ignore his last jibe.

“Have an orgasm?” Gibsie shot back with a shake of his head. “I love you, lad. But not enough to get you off.”

“Fuck off,” I grumbled.

“Relax,” he laughed. “I’m joking.”

“Yeah, my life’s a big fucking joke to you, isn’t it,” I snapped.

“Don’t be so touchy,” he snickered.

“Gibs,” I warned. “I’m not fucking around here. I need you to help me with this.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “If it’s what you really want?”

No.

“It has to be,” I croaked out.

“Fine, lad, I’ll help you,” Gibsie replied with a sigh. “Even though it’ll never work, you’re doomed to fail, and I’ll more than likely end up giving the best man speech at your wedding at some ridiculously young age because you’ll have bulldozed the shit out of things, but for now, I will absolutely help you bury your head in the sand.”

“That’s not funny, Gibs,” I snapped, bristling.

“I know,” he replied – while he laughed his arse off. “It’s hilarious.”

“Not even a little bit,” I groaned.