Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4

AOIFE

WHEN I FINALLY RETURNED TO school the following Monday morning, and took my seat in tutorial, it was to an empty chair beside mine at a desk I had been assigned to share with Joey since the start of the school year.

“Arrrggghhh!” Casey screamed, as she stood in the doorway of our classroom and stared at me in horror. “Where the hell have you been, and what the fuck have you done to your hair?” she demanded, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Oh my god.” Her eyes widened in horror as she let her bag fall off her shoulder and ran behind my chair to get a better look. “It’s gone.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Case,” I chuckled, smoothing a hand over my shoulder length hair. “To answer your first question; I was home. I needed a few days to sort my head out. As for the latter; I needed a change.”

No, what I had needed was to remove the memory of that man’s hands from my hair, and it had cost me eighty euro for the pleasure, but she didn’t need to know the finer details.

I still had enough length to tie it back in a small ponytail, but not long enough to put me in the vulnerable position of having a man restrain me with it.

“Do you like it?”

“No!” she spluttered, horrified, as she retrieved her bag.

“Wow.” I rolled my eyes. “Thanks a bunch.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re still a complete ride,” she shot back, eyeing my hair and pulling at a loose tendril. “I’ve just never seen you with hair shorter than the middle of your back, Aoif. You’ve had Rapunzel hair since we were in playschool.” Giving me the side-eye, she added, “I tried calling you a hundred times, by the way.”

“My phone is at Joey’s,” I told her. “And people change.”

“Yeah, I suppose impending motherhood can change a girl.”

“Say it louder, why don’t you?” I hissed, twisting around to glare at her when she slid into the desk behind mine. “Jesus.”

“Sorry.” She winced and held her hands up. “Any updates on that front, by the way?”

“I told my mam.”

Her blue eyes widened. “How’d she take it?”

“Better than I did, I think,” I admitted with a pained sigh. “She went with me to the doctor last week.”

Her eyes widened. “And?”

I nodded. “September twentieth.”

“Your due date?” Her eyes widened. “That’s two days after your nineteenth birthday.”

“Shh,” I warned, and then reluctantly nodded. “But yeah, that’s my due date. I got my hospital appointment in the post – for my first scan.”

“For when?”

“This Friday.”

“What time? Because we finish school at twelve for the Easter holidays, and I can come with you if—’

“I appreciate the offer, but no,” I replied, shaking my head. “Mam already offered, but I don’t want her there, either.”

“Why?”

Because I only want Joey.

“Because.” I expelled a frustrated breath. “Because I just don’t.”

“So, how did he take it?” she asked then, eyes laced with sympathy. “Not well, I’m guessing, considering he hasn’t been at school for the past week, either.”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Still?” Her eyes widened. “Aoife.”

“I know, I know,” I grumbled, feeling my windpipe constrict at the thought of him not knowing almost as much as having to tell him. “Ugh.”

“When you both didn’t show up to school, I convinced myself that you’d told him,” Casey offered, brows furrowed. “I figured you wouldn’t be coming back until after the Easter Holidays.”

The bell rang loudly then, interrupting our conversation, and I watched as the classroom began to slowly fill, rolling my eyes when Danielle and Paul swaggered into class, with their arms wrapped around each other.

“Ugh,” Casey interjected, pretending to stick her finger down her throat. “What does she think will happen if she doesn’t weld herself to his side for an entire class?”

“That he’ll be stolen away, by the looks of it,” I offered, turning around in my seat to lean against her desk. “Whatever. She’s welcome to him.”

“Yeah, you certainly made an impressive upgrade,” Casey mused and then grinned, eyes shifting to behind me. “Speaking of which…”

She pointed towards the classroom door and I turned around just in time to see Joey walk into class.

The minute my eyes landed on him, my heart bucked wildly in my chest, instantly recognizing its mate.

His hair was styled in the usual way he wore it, shaved tight at the back and sides, with a mop on top.

Minus his school jumper, the grey shirt he was wearing was untucked and hanging untidily over his belt buckle, while his school tie had been haphazardly thrown on. He had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing the impressive scrawl of black ink that he had been steadily adding to since fourth year, which now covered both of his forearms.

With his usual fuck the world expression etched on his face, he approached the teacher’s desk, handing over what I knew was a behavioral chart book – otherwise known at the dreaded red book.

It was a report card type booklet assigned to the most disruptive students with the worst attitude problems and needed to be signed off by each teacher upon arrival to class and at the end. At the end of each day, the principal himself would have every student with a red book come to the office to have any or all comments received in their books checked over by him in person. As you can imagine, Joey had received more than his fair share of red books down through the years.

Usually, a student, no matter how badly behaved, only had to carry around a red book for a week at the most at any given time. But I specifically remember Joey having one for the whole of second and third year without a break.

Looking entirely unimpressed with whatever Miss Lane was saying to him as she pointed at the red book on her desk, Joey simply handed her a pen, and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the signature.

And then he chose that exact moment in time to sweep his gaze around the room. I felt the weight of his stare the second it landed on me.

The air thinned around me, making it genuinely hard to drag breath into my lungs. Trembling beneath the intensity of it all, I forced a small smile and a small limp wave.

What other way was there to greet the boy you’d spent years loving?

The boy whose father had tried to molest you.

The boy who you ripped the heart out of the last time you saw him.

Jesus.

I watched Joey stiffen, his eyes heated and focused entirely on me.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t wave.

He just stared at me.

This was too much.

It was way too fucking much.

There were so many unspoken words, so many unanswered questions hanging in the air between us both.

I knew that he felt it, too.

His expression wasn’t hiding anything from me.

He was showing it all right now, every ounce of confusion, pain and annoyance.

Eventually, the teacher returned the red book to Joey, and I watched as he strode towards our desk, still staring at me, still unsmiling.

Dropping his bag on the ground at the side of our desk, he pulled his chair and sank down in his usual spot beside me.

The minute he sat down, the fresh and achingly familiar scent of Lynx and soap flooded my senses, causing me to shiver.

“Joey,” I croaked out, watching him warily, unsure of how to react because of how we had left things the last time we spoke.

“Molloy,” he acknowledged, shoulder brushing against mine as he adjusted his chair, pushing it back to give himself more leg room.

“Nice shirt,” I whispered, nudging my shoulder with his, as I held my breath and waited for his age-old response.

Say it.

Please say it.

Two words.

That’s all I need.

The breath he released was so deep, that it caused his shoulders to visibly rise and fall, before he shook his head in what seemed like reluctant surrender. “Nice legs.”

Thank you, Jesus.

“I was hoping you’d be here today.”

“Where else would I be?”

“You weren’t at school last week.”

“I had a lot on.”

Yeah, with his mother. “How is your mam?”

He shrugged noncommittedly and reached into the pocket of his school trousers, withdrawing my phone and setting it down on my side of the desk. “You left this.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I know.” Swallowing deeply, I quickly snatched up the phone and pocketed it. “Thanks for bringing it back.”

He offered me a clipped nod in response. “No problem.”

“I left my necklace there, too,” I whispered. “In your room. The one you got me for my birthday last year.”

“I’ll get that back to you.”

“Thanks,” I breathed, hating the ridge between us. “So, are you okay?”

Nodding stiffly, he kept his eyes trained on the door in front of us. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged weakly. “I mean, I think so.”

“That’s good.” His jaw ticked and I watched as he swallowed deeply. “I’m glad. I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about you.” Shivering, I reached under our desk and placed my hand on his hard, muscular thigh. “God, Joe, I’ve missed you so much.”

A deep shudder rolled through him, but he made no move to respond or return any physical affection.

Instead, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on our desk, dropped his head in his hands, and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“You never came back,” I heard myself say, eyes trained on his back.

“You wanted space,” came his flat response.

“I wanted you to come back.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“You weren’t,” I sighed. “I just…never mind.”

A horrible silence settled between us then; one I was desperate to get rid of.

“Joe?”

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?”

“We are talking.” His response was automatic, almost robotic, as he slumped over our desk, head in hands.

“Properly,” I urged, cracking my knuckles nervously. “Privately.”

Shrugging lifelessly, he released a pained breath, but didn’t respond.

“Can we hang out this evening?”

“I have to work. I’ve already missed a week. I can’t skip anymore.”

“What about tomorrow?”

He didn’t respond.

“I wanted to know if you had plans at lunchtime on Friday?” I heard myself croak out, palms sweating, as panic filled me. “Because there’s some place I need to be and I was, uh, well, I was really hoping that you could come with me.”

More silence.

“Joe?”

Jerking upwards, he looked around himself, seemingly startled, before slumping back down on his elbows. “Hm?”

“Do you have plans on Friday?”

“I, ah, I don’t know,” he mumbled, sounding beyond exhausted. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, are you busy at lunch today?” I tried instead. “I mean, do you have training or anything like that happening? Because I really need to talk to you in private about something.”

“I don’t want to talk in private,” he replied quietly. “Not today, Molloy.”

“But you don’t even know what I want to talk to you about,” I squeezed out. “It’s important.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m too fucking tired, Molloy.”

“You have to know I didn’t mean it,” I blurted, addressing the elephant in the room. “All of that shit I spurted out the last time we were together? It wasn’t me, Joe.”

He stiffened.

“I didn’t mean it, okay?” Reaching up, I placed a hand on his back, frowning when I felt the heat emanating from his body. Jesus, he was burning up. “I swear, Joe. Not one word of it.”

“Yeah, you did.” The muscles in his back coiled tight under my touch. “And it’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened, Joe,” I told him, feeling achingly vulnerable in this moment. “And I don’t want space. I never want space from you.”

“Neither do I,” he replied quietly. “But just because we don’t want something doesn’t mean that we don’t need it.”

Anxiety churned inside of me. “What does that mean?”

“It means what it means, Molloy.”

“Look at me.”

He didn’t.

“Joe.”

“Just let it go, Molloy.”

“Joey Lynch, you better look at me.”

Blowing out a pained breath, he leaned back in his chair, rested his hands on his lap, and reluctantly looked at me.

All of sudden it made perfect sense.

The drowsiness.

The lethargy.

The scorching hot skin.

Eyes as black as coal.

“Oh my god.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “What did you take?”

“Nothing.”

He moved to turn his face away, but I caught his chin between my fingers and forced him to look at me. “What did you take?”

“Nothing,” he argued before releasing a pained breath. “Today.”

“Yesterday?”

He nodded slowly.

“And the day before?”

Another nod.

My heart broke further.

“When did it start?”

Silence.

“When did it start?”

“After I left your place.”

Oh god, no…

“So, we’re talking a week?”

“About that.”

“What was it?” I forced myself to ask. “What did you take?”

“Not what you think.”

“What did you take, Joey?”

“Not that.”

“I didn’t ask you what you didn’t take,” I hissed, heartbroken and furious. “Tell me what you took, dammit.”

His eyes locked on mine, and stayed there, focusing on me as best as he could, given that he was clearly under the influence. “Just some pills and shit.”

“And shit?” I glared at him. “What does and shit consist of? Because I’ve been with you long enough to know that when you say the words pills and shit, your meaning can vary wildly.”

“Molloy.”

“So, what are we talking about here? A joint, a line, or a fucking needle.” It felt like I had been transported back in time to a place I never wanted to revisit. “Oh my god.” My breath hitched in my throat. “Why, Joe, why?”

“Why do you think?” he whispered brokenly, still obediently keeping eye contact with me, as I held his chin in my hand. “I broke you.”

“No, Joe, you didn’t break me.” I shook my head and blinked back the tears stinging my eyes. “You broke you.”

“It’s my fault.” He looked away then, pulling his face free. “What happened to you is on me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.“

“I brought you into that house,” he hissed, swinging back to glare at me. “I put you in harm’s way and harm got you.”

“I’m okay,” I choked out, reaching up to touch his cheek only to feel the sting of rejection when he leaned away from my touch. “Don’t do this. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

“I don’t have anything, Molloy,” was his lifeless response. “I never did.”

“You have me,” I breathed, chest rising and falling quicky, as I fought to maintain my composure in a classroom surrounded by peers. “You still have me, Joe. I don’t blame you, okay? I don’t.”

“I’m him.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” He shrugged. “You said it yourself.”

“That was my hurt talking,” I choked. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It was your brain talking,” he corrected. “It was your truth.”

“Joey, come on.“

“I can’t.” I watched as another shiver rolled through him. “I can’t do this right now, Aoife.”

“Can’t do what?” I strangled out, cheeks flooding with heat, as my pulse skyrocketed. “Can’t talk to me? Can’t look at me? Can’t be with me? What?”

“I can’t do this.” I watched as he dragged his hands through his hair in frustration. “Yeah, I definitely can’t do this,” he muttered, shoving his chair back, and grabbing his bag off the floor, as he rose to his feet. “I’m out.”

“Sit down, Joseph,” Miss Lane ordered from her desk. “Class is just about to start.”

“Yeah, without me,” he shot back, moving for the classroom door.

“Don’t even think about walking out of this classroom,” she commanded, holding a hand up in warning. “You’re already on a red book. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

“Kind of like how me telling you to get fucked would make it worse?” he sneered, slamming his palm against the door, causing it to swing open in a whoosh. “Well, it looks like I just did, huh?”

“Joseph!”

“Get fucked, miss,” he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, storming away.

“Oh god.” Dropping my head in my hands, I resisted the urge to chase after him. I managed to last a whole three minutes until I caved, bolting out of my chair and moving for the door like my life depended on it.

“Where do you think you’re going, Aoife?”

“I think she’s going to get fucked, miss,” Alec offered up with a chuckle. “In the literal sense, this time.”

“Language,” Miss Lane warned Alec, before turning her attention back to me. “This isn’t drama class, Aoife. No need for the Bonnie and Clyde reenactment. Return to your seat.”

“But—’

“Now, Aoife.”

“Ah, miss, don’t be a cock block,” Alec chimed in, encouraged by the class full of boys egging him on. “Did ya see the big bull head on Lynchy? You only have one class with him; the rest of us will be in the firing line all day. Let her go and sort him out. He’ll be in much better form for the rest of the day.”

“You can get out of my classroom,” Miss Lane ordered, glowering at Alec. “Straight to the office to collect a red book of your own.”

Deciding this was my perfect opportunity to escape, I made a dash for the door.

Ignoring the laughter coming from behind me, not to mention our year head’s voice as she shouted after me, or Alec subsequently calling out ‘you’re welcome,’ I hurried out of the classroom, leaving my bag behind, and trusting that Casey would pack up for me at the end of class.

My original plan was to head for the back of the PE hall, knowing that was one of Joey’s chosen spots to frequent, and if that failed, then I would try the school sheds, but my plan quickly flew out the window when I reached the front entrance of the school and my eyes locked on none other than Marie Lynch coming out of the principal’s office.

“Aoife.” The minute she noticed me, she moved in my direction, making a beeline for the exit that I was desperately trying to get to. “Please, can I speak to you?”

My feet reluctantly faltered before coming to an abrupt stop, while my head told me to keep going. “What are you doing here?”

“I had a meeting with the principal,” she said, when she closed the space between us, meeting me at the door. “I know that I’m the last person you want to speak to right now.“

“The second last.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the second last person I want to speak to.”

She had the good grace to wince. “Yes, well, would you mind walking with me for a moment so I can talk to you?” she asked, gesturing to the entryway double doors. “Please. It’s important.”

Deciding that Joey’s mother was someone that I couldn’t avoid forever, I nodded stiffly and followed her outside, falling stonily into step beside her.

“How have you been?”

“Fine,” I replied, tone stiff.

“Are you sure?”

“What did you want to talk about, Marie?”

When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere with that line of questioning, she released a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead with her small hand. “I’m worried about Joey.”

Yeah, me too. “Why?”

“I think he’s falling into bad patterns again.”

“Yeah.” Sighing heavily, I wrapped my arms around myself as we walked, ignoring the torrential March downpour. “I’ve noticed.”

“So, he is here?” Relief flooded her eyes. “He came to school?”

“He was here,” I corrected flatly. “He left class pretty much as soon as he arrived.”

“Oh god, that’s what I was afraid of,” she choked out. “I don’t know what to do with him, Aoife. I really don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to help.”

“No offense, but it’s kind of impossible for you to help him when you’re the source of his pain.”

She flinched from my words, but didn’t argue.

Because she knew just as well as I did that she had a huge role to play in her son derailing.

Again.

“I deserve that.”

“It’s not about what you deserve, Marie,” I bit out. “It’s about the truth.”

“He told me that you asked him for space,” she hedged nervously. “That you didn’t want to see him anymore.”

Devastation flooded me. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean to him.”

“Then we have something in common,” she replied sadly. “We’re both guilty of directing our anger and pain at the wrong person.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, coming to an abrupt stop when we reached the edge of the carpark and my eyes landed on her husband’s car.

With said husband sitting in the driver’s seat.

Oh god.

The mere sight of the man made me physically shudder, and I found myself taking a step backwards. “What do you want from me?”

“What I said to you when we first met,” she blurted out, stepping in front of me, in what I presumed was her pathetic attempt at shielding me from his view. “About how I thought that you needed to stay away from my son? Well, I was wrong.”

My brows furrowed. “You were wrong?”

“Joey needs you,” she continued to say, blue eyes full of lonesome sincerity, as the urgency in her tone grew. “More than he needs me, or anyone else, for that matter. For most of his life, my son has been so hell bent on escaping his mind, that he’s never given a second thought to destroying himself in the process. But with you, since my son has been with you, he’s different. It’s not only that he’s present, but it’s that he wants to be. You soothe something inside of him, something that his father and I are responsible for breaking, and I don’t want to see him have that snatched away from him again.”

“Why are you saying this?” I asked, gaze flicking from her face to the car I could see over her shoulder. Anxiety gnawed at my gut, and it took everything I had in me to stand my ground and not run away.

“Because I made a mistake, Aoife,” she replied in a shaky tone. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to my son, but this is one that I hope I can make right.” She looked me in the eyes then, imploring me to hear her, when she said, “Don’t give up on him, Aoife. Please don’t give up on my boy.”

The sincerity in her voice threw me and it took me a few moments to gather my thoughts before I could respond.

“Nothing you said about Joey changed anything for me,” I heard myself say. “I know your son is worth loving – worth saving – even if the rest of the world can’t see it.” Even if he can’t see it himself. “I know who he is, Marie – the kind of man he is – and I know his worth, so you can rest assured that nothing you,“ I paused to cast a look a disgust in the direction of their car before continuing, “your husband, or anyone else, for that matter, have ever said or done has come close to making a dent in my feelings for him.”

Even though I was being catty towards her, and my tone was obviously bitchy, I watched as his mother visibly sagged in relief.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For loving my son. I know that it’s not easy at times.”

“Loving your son is effortless,” I cut her off by saying, pushing my damp hair out of my eyes. “It’s getting him to love himself that’s the hard part.”

Of course, her husband decided this was the perfect time to roll down the car window and shout, “Marie, wrap it the fuck up, will ya? I’ve places to be.”

Fear flooded the woman, and I watched as she visibly recoiled before resigning with a slumped shrug.

“I’m sorry for what he tried to do to you,” she whispered. “So sorry.”

“Did ya hear me, woman?” he barked. “I said get your hole over here, or you’ll be walking back to the house.”

His attention flicked to me then and recognition pinged in his eyes.

Feeling like my skin was crawling from just having his gaze on me, but refusing to back down, I narrowed my eyes and returned his glowering stare with one of my own, along with a perfectly polished middle finger.

It was at that exact moment that Joey decided to appear from behind the PE hall, with what I could only assume was the end of a joint pursed between his lips.

Taking one final drag of his smoke, he tossed the butt on the ground and exhaled an impressive cloud of smoke from his lungs as his bleary-eyed gaze landed on us.

Blinking in confusion, Joey looked from his mother, to me, and then to his father parked nearby.

The confusion in his eyes quickly morphed into fury.

“What the actual fuck!”

“Oh god, no,” his mother strangled out, sensing the potential danger of the situation. “No, Joey, no!“

“What did I tell ya about looking at her?”

“Joe, hold up. It’s okay.“

“What did I tell you about coming anywhere near her?”

“Joey, please.”

“Get out of the fucking car, old man!”

Moving entirely on instinct, I stepped around Marie, and ran straight at her son as he stormed towards their car.

“No.” Intercepting Joey before he reached his father, I placed my hands on his chest. “No.”

“Move.” His entire body was vibrating with tension, as he strained against my hands, attention locked on his father. “Get out of my way.”

“No,” I snapped, and then, before he had a chance to respond, I slid my hands up his chest, not stopping until I had a firm grip on his neck. “I said no,” I repeated, roughly dragging his face down to mine. “Put your eyes on me and your mouth on mine.”

“What?” He shook his head in frustration as rain pelted down on us. “No, Molloy, we can’t just fucking—’

Whatever he was about to say was swallowed up when my lips crashed against his.

With my mouth on his, and with one of my hands fisted in the front of his school shirt, I reached up with the other and guided one of his hands to my hip, before placing the other on my ass.

The tension emanating from him was slightly terrifying, but I knew that I was in no danger with this boy.

After a few unnerving moments of stoic rigidity, I felt the shift in him, as he reluctantly relinquished his tight-fisted hold on his anger, and reciprocated my affection.

The sound of an engine roaring to life and then tires squealing filled my ears, and I sagged in relief.

He was gone.

Falling into our kiss, his mouth moved against mine, as our lips parted, and our tongues dueled viciously.

Joey was hurt and he was letting me know just how much in a bruising, punishing kiss that catapulted my hormones into complete disarray.

Flexing his hand on my ass, he tightened his grip on my hip, dragging my body roughly against his, as he took from my body whatever he needed in this moment to stabilize and ground himself.

Needing him with an equal desperation, I pressed up on the tips of my toes, hooked my arms around his neck, and returned with my lips everything that he was offering me.

One moment, he was there, and the next, he was gone; jerking away from me like my kiss caused him some sort of physical pain.

“Don’t do that to me,” Joey warned, breathing hard, as he wiped residue lip-gloss from his mouth with his thumb, and glared at me. “Don’t fuck with my head like that.”

“What are you talking about?” I panted, completely thrown off kilter by his reaction. “I wasn’t trying to fuck with your head.”

“Kissing me,” he snapped, backing up a few steps. “Manipulating me with my feelings, Molloy. I’ve had enough of that to last a goddamn lifetime.”

“Are you serious?” I narrowed my eyes in response. “How is me kissing you a form of manipulation?”

“It’s manipulation when you use my feelings for you against me,” he shot back, unyielding. “You did it that night and you’re doing it again.”

“Are you blaming me for what happened?”

“No, I’m blaming me for that!” he roared, livid, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m blaming me for caring too fucking much about what you want, and letting my feelings for you blindside me into not doing the right thing!”

“I told you that I want to forget about it.”

“And I told you that I’d do whatever you wanted me to do.” A vein ticked in his neck as he watched me watch him. “But that doesn’t mean that my silence isn’t eating me alive.”

“Joey, don’t let him do this to us.” I took a step towards him and reached for his hand. “Don’t let him win.”

“Don’t you get it, Molloy?” Joey pulled his hand free from mine and backed away. “He always wins.”

As I watched Joey retreat and withdraw from me, I realized that some pivotal piece of him had been snuffed out that night, and if I let him go now, I might not be able to reach him again.

“I love you,” I heard myself call out, and I watched as Joey’s shoulders tensed and his step faltered.

Moving on instinct, I closed the space between us, and snatched his hand up, unwilling to let him leave me twice. “I’m in love with you, and that’s something he can never take away from you.”

A shiver rolled through him. “Molloy.”

“He didn’t win, Joe.” Not stopping until I was flush against his chest, with my hands fisted in the front of his school shirt, I tugged hard on the fabric, reveling when he relented and lowered his face to mine. “You did.”

Releasing a pained groan when my lips crashed against his, he didn’t push me away this time; choosing to wrap his arms around me and pull me closer instead.

With our lips fused together, we step-stumbled to the side of the PE hall before slipping around back of the building.

My back hit the wall a moment later, followed by his big body crashing against me.

“I don’t know where I stand with you anymore,” he admitted against my lips, as he thrust his hips against me and let his arms fall to his sides. “Your mood swings drive me fucking crazy.”

“I know, stud,” I breathed, reaching between us to quickly undo his belt and pop the button on his grey school trousers. “I’m a mess.”

“Me too,” he croaked out, voice thick with need, as he watched me free his dick from the confinements of his black boxers. “I’m a fuck up, queen. I let you down again.”

“It’s okay,” I breathed, reaching under my skirt to quickly push my knickers down my legs and step out of them. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Your hair,” he said instead of answering me, studying me with eyes so dilated they were almost black. “It’s gone.”

A pang of sadness hit me and I quickly crashed my lips against his, desperate to avoid the ins and outs of that particular decision.

“Fuck.” Releasing a pained groan, he grabbed the backs of my thighs, and hoisted me up in one swift move.

Wrapping my legs around his waist I slid my hand between us and guided the thick head of his dick inside of my body.

“Are you going to send me away again?” he asked in an achingly vulnerable tone, sinking deep inside of me. “Tell me now so I can be ready for it.”

My heart skipped.

“No, Joe.” Cupping his stubbly cheek, I leaned in close and brushed my lips against his. “I won’t ever send you away again.”