Saving 6: Boys of Tommen #3

Part 5 – FIFTH YEAR

AUGUST 16TH 2003

AOIFE

MY PARENTS WERE GOING through another rough patch, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why, especially when my father’s check book was out.

The compensation for this latest hiccup turned out to be something that benefitted all of us.

Built-in wardrobes.

Yay!

“Jesus, Molloy,” my father’s favorite laborer – and mine – growled, as he tossed another pile of clothes from my old wardrobe on to my bed before dragging my old wardrobe into the middle of my room. “Where are you going with all the clothes?”

“Rule number one,” I said, sitting in the middle of my bed, rummaging through a mountain of clothes and shoes. “You never judge the size of a girl’s wardrobe.”

“No judgment from this end,” Joey replied with a resigned shake of his head. “Just confusion.”

Yeah, Joe, me too, I thought to myself, as I shamelessly watched him work, taking in every tight muscle under his white t-shirt, and the golden strip of skin he flashed when he stretched.

His body truly was a sight to behold, considering by the time this summer had ended, he had racked up almost as many tattoos as he had scars from fighting.

We were back to BCS in a couple of weeks, our fifth year, and as good as Joey looked in a school uniform, and damn did he look good in our uniform, I was thoroughly enjoying the visual of him in his work clothes.

“You planning on giving me a hand anytime soon?” he asked, dragging me from my thoughts, as he dropped another heap of clothes on my lap. “Or do you plan to just sprawl out on your bed for the evening.”

“Sprawl,” I said with a lazy sigh, flopping back on my pillows. “Definitely sprawl.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he grumbled, but sounded more amused than annoyed.

“What’s that? You like my ass?” I teased. “Why thank you, Joey. It’s my pride and joy.”

“Your legs should be your pride and joy, Molloy,” he tossed over his shoulder, and the compliment thrilled me.

My heart skipped. “So, you don’t think I have a nice ass?”

“I can’t remember what it looks like,” he replied, quick as a cat. “Why don’t you take off your pants and I’ll tell you.”

“Funny.”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave me a devilish smirk. “It was worth a shot.”

Fuck.

“You’d get such a surprise if I dropped my pants,” I taunted, throwing a rolled-up pair of socks at his head.

He deftly caught them midair. “Not as big as the surprise you’d get if I dropped mine,” he shot back.

My mouth fell open and he winked.

“Now, get off that pride and joy of yours and show me where you want the dressing table area.“

“Fine. Oh wait! Yay, I forgot I had these,” I practically cooed with glee, as my gaze landed on a pair of itty-bitty jean shorts. “I can’t wait to wear them again.”

“Wear them?” Joey cocked a brow. “You’re telling me those are shorts?”

“They sure are,” I confirmed, climbing off the bed to hold them up to my waist. “Shit,” I grumbled in dismay. “I think they might be too small now.”

“They didn’t fit you when you were ten,” my brother mocked from the doorway, where he was holding a pile of his own clothes. “They’re hardly going to fit you now –not with that fat ass you’re dragging around after you.”

“You mean this ass?” I replied mockingly while slapping my ass. “The one your pervy friends keep trying to get a look at?”

“No, they don’t,” Kev argued. “They don’t even like you.”

“Uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes. “Sure they don’t.”

“My friends have better taste in girls,” Kev spat, which caused Joey to chuckle. Turning to glare at him, my brother demanded, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, lad.” Shaking his head, Joey continued to measure the height of my floor to ceiling with a measuring tape, marking off certain parts of my wall with a pencil as he worked. “Nothing at all.”

“He’s laughing because of how hilarious your denial is,” I pissed my brother off even further by chiming. “Because he knows damn well your buddies are only too happy to get a close up look of this bad boy.” I tapped my ass again and choked out a laugh when my brother threw his pile of clothes at me.

“You’re literally the female version of Shrek,” he hissed. “You don’t even—

“And don’t forget these babies,” I interrupted, giving my braless boobs a jiggle. “Isn’t that right, Joe?”

“He doesn’t agree with you,” Kev snapped and then turned to Joey and asked, “Do you?”

“Your sister’s right, Kev,” Joey said with a sigh. “Trust me, lad, you might be in her year, but I’m in her class, and they’re looking.”

I grinned in victory. “See?”

“Only because she acts like such a fucking tease,” Kev hissed, barging into my room, and snatching the shorts out of my hand. “I don’t know how Paul puts up with you.”

“Hey, give those back,” I ordered, chasing my brother around the room. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” I whisper-hissed, when he yanked my bedroom window open and dangled my shorts over the window ledge. “Put the shorts down, fuck face.”

“Make me, fatty.”

“Oh, you’re a dead man,” I warned, lunging across my mattress, only to get there a second too late.

“Noooo!” I cried out, shoving my brother out of my way just in time to see my rediscovered shorts land on the roof of our garden shed, before blowing away once again only to reach their final destination in a pile of Spud’s shit in our garden.

“Wear them now,” Kev taunted smugly. “When they’re covered in one of Spud’s giant shits.”

“Oh, you think you’ve won, huh?” I arched a brow, challenge accepted. “Well, just you wait and see, little brother. I look forward to wearing nothing but the skimpiest bikini I own when I come downstairs tonight during your weird sleepover with your even weirder buddies.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes bulged. “And who are you calling little brother? You’re like three minutes older than me, dickhead. Also, they’re not weird sleepovers,” he said, before turning to Joey to explain. “We watch pay-per-view.”

“Porn,” I interjected with a snort.

“Hey.” Joey held his hands up. “Whatever works for ya, lad.”

“Wrestling,” Kev corrected, face turning purple. “We watch wrestling. It’s a sport, in case you haven’t heard, Aoife.”

“Fat lot you’d know about wrestling,” I snickered. “Unless it comes in the form of a video game.”

“As opposed to you,” he sneered. “The Olympic fucking champion of lying on the flat of her back like a slut.”

Bullseye.

Ouch.

“Hey,” Joey warned, turning to glare at my brother. “Come on, Kev. Don’t say shit like that to your sister.”

“What?” Kev threw his hands up. “Have you not been listening? She’s a complete—“

“I’m a virgin, wank-stain!” I screamed, feeling that one hit a little too close to a nerve.

“Yeah,” Kev snorted, with a shake of his head. “You’re a virgin, and I’m Santa Claus.”

“That’s it,” I snarled, choosing violence, as I lunged for my brother. “Make your peace with Jesus, dick brain, because I’m about to become the only child I should have been before your shitty egg gatecrashed Mam’s womb!”

Like two gladiators poised for battle, we lunged at each other.

Prepared for my onslaught, Kev swiped a clothes hanger off the floor and flung it at me. “Oh, bring it on, fatty-bang-bang.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, sir-wank-a-lot,” I snarled, bending like one of the fellas from The Matrix to avoid a hanger to the face.

“You mean like this?” Kev hissed, spearing me to the ground with a loud thud. “How’s that for a wrestling move?”

“You…won’t…defeat…me,” I strangled out, as I attempted to use my hips to buck him off my chest. “And…you…called…me…fat.“

One minute, my brother was sitting on my chest, and forcing me to slap myself with my own damn hands, and the next he was pinned to my bedroom wall.

“The hell are you doing?” Kev wheezed out, as Joey pressed his forearm harder into his throat. “Lynchy, stop, I can’t…breathe…”

“You think it’s okay to touch her like that?” he snarled, completely livid. “You think I’m going sit back and do nothing? I don’t fucking think so, asshole—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Joey, stop!” Springing up, I raced over to them. “Let go,” I instructed, grabbing ahold of his arm. “Joey, let go. It’s okay. He wasn’t hurting me.”

“He put his fucking hands on you, Molloy,” he roared, shaking with temper, as he continued to put pressure on my brother’s windpipe. “I saw him with my own goddamn eyes.”

“We were just playing around,” I hurried to explain, as I slid between both boys, and forced him to release his death grip on my brother’s throat. “That’s what we do, Joe. It’s a game we play.”

“But he put his hands on you.” Joey’s eyes bulged. “I fucking saw.“

“I was messing with her,” Kev choked out. “I wouldn’t really hurt my sister like that, you thick bastard.”

“Shut up, Kev,” I hissed, shoving him out of way, before turning my attention back to my classmate. “Joey…, shh, shh, Joe, look at me.” Reaching up, I cupped his face between my hands. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he did, and I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

His eyes were wild and feral looking.

He was visibly shaking with barely restrained anger, as he clenched his fists to the point where his knuckles had turned white.

“He. Hurt. You.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“I saw him.”

“I’m okay,” I heard myself sooth, thumbs smoothing over his stubbly jaw. “And you’re okay. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.”

“I’m not!” Kev wheezed, clutching at his throat, as he staggered from my room. “I’m not okay, Aoife.”

“Kev, wait, don’t say anything to Dad,” I called out, chasing after my brother. “He didn’t mean—“

“He could’ve killed me, Aoife,” Kev strangled out, as he stormed into his bedroom, still clutching his throat. “That psycho nearly killed me.”

“But he didn’t?” I offered lamely, only to receive a door slammed in my face for my troubles. “Dammit.”

Shaking out my trembling hands, I drew in a steadying breath and hurried back to my room.

“Yeah, so Kev’s beyond pissed.” I slammed the door shut and glared at my rogue protector. “What did you that for, Joe? He’s going to tell our parents and you’re going to end up getting in trouble with Dad.”

“Let him tell them,” was all Joey replied, as he crouched down and quietly loaded up all of his tools into his bag. ”It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does matter,” I argued, stalking towards the beautiful eejit. “You love working at the garage.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he repeated, keeping his head down, as he filled his bag and zipped it shut. “I’m sorry for causing trouble for you,” he added, as he stood up and threw the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy.”

“No, no, you’re not walking out of here,” I warned, hurrying to barricade my bedroom door and keep him in here with me. “We can sort this out.”

“What’s to sort, Molloy?” he said flatly. “I hit my boss’s son. I think it’s pretty clear that I’m done here.”

“No, you’re not done here. You’re not even close to being done, here. So, just cool your jets and let me think about this,” I ordered, shoving his chest, and feeling a swell of excitement when he let me walk him backwards. Because let’s face it, after the display he’d just put on, there was no way anyone could make this boy do anything he didn’t want to do.

Walking Joey over to my bed, I pushed on his shoulders, and watched as he obligingly sank down on the mattress.

“Why’d you do that, Joe?” I croaked out, standing in front of him. I was physically shaking from head to toe as my earlier adrenalin deserted me.

‘Because he hurt you,’ he replied, looking up at me with the most lonesome expression I’d ever seen. In this moment, Joey Lynch looked like the quintessential lost boy. “Because he put his hands on you.’

‘But he’s my brother, Joe,” I heard myself explain softly. We were only messing. It was play fighting.”

Joey looked up at me like I was speaking a foreign language, and the rare vulnerability caused me to do something incredibly reckless.

“I don’t…” He blew out a sharp breath. “I fucked up.”

Nudging his legs open, I stepped closer. “Yeah, you kind of did, Joe.” I reached out and ruffled his blond hair, and then, unable to stop myself, I cupped his face between both hands, and I looked down at him. “Picking fights with my brother, of all people,” I admonished softly, thumbs grazing over his cheekbones. “Spud packs a bigger punch with his tail.”

“I thought he was…” Shaking his head, Joey let his head fall forward to rest against my stomach. “I just saw you on the ground and he was… and I just…” The move was incredibly intimate, and I sucked in a sharp breath from the contact. “Fuck.”

“I’m okay,” I coaxed, unable or just plain unwilling to stand back and not comfort him. With trembling hands, I held his face to my stomach, and whispered, “You’re okay.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either, so I remained right there in my bedroom, with his cheek pressed to my belly and my hands stroking his hair.

Finally, after what felt like an age, I felt the tension slowly leave his shoulders, and then his arms came around my waist. “He hurt you,” he croaked out. “You don’t hit girls.”