Saving 6: Boys of Tommen #3

DECEMBER 24TH 2003

AOIFE

IF JOEY WANTED to sit in this parked-up car outside of the garage half the night, then I would gladly sit right there with him.

It didn’t matter that it was -2 degrees outside or that I was close to freezing in my work clothes. At least if he was in this car with me, it meant that he was out of trouble.

He wasn’t out getting high.

Time passed by much quicker when I was with him, and I didn’t notice the hours slipping away as I regaled him with random tales from my life.

You see, Kevin might be the twin that held the lion’s share of academic intelligence, but I was the one that could talk the ass off a donkey.

For real. I had been blessed with the ability to make a conversation out of nothing, which was how I had somehow managed to keep this wildly unattainable boy’s interest piqued for most of the night.

“And then he said ‘oh, baby, my bed smells like you, but it’s fading fast, come over and refresh my sheets,’” I explained, fake gagging at the memory of Paul’s ridiculous phone call the other night. “I mean, seriously?” I choked out a laugh, as I rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie that he’d given me to wear. “Get a handle on yourself, man.”

“Oh Jesus, the shame,” Joey groaned, covering his face with his hand. “I’m actually embarrassed for the prick.”

“I know right,” I agreed, waving a hand around. “That’s exactly how I felt.”

“What did you say back to that?”

I grinned deviously. “I told him to spray some perfume on his pillow, turn off the lights, and get reacquainted with his hand.”

Joey threw his head back and laughed. “Vicious.”

“Yeah, well, he earned it with that line,” I laughed. “I mean, come on! What did he think I was going to do? Run over to his house and rub myself all over his mattress like a tomcat scenting its territory? The deluded eejit.”

“Probably,” Joey offered, still chuckling. “In case it slipped your attention, he’s sort of obsessed with you.”

“No, Paul is obsessed with this,” I replied, gesturing to my body. “He has no interest in this.” I tapped a finger against my temple. “He doesn’t even know me, Joey. Not really. He’s never taken the time to. It’s all about appearances. Honestly, I doubt he would care if I never spoke a word, just so long as I smiled and looked pretty.”

“Then what are you doing, Molloy?” he came right out and asked, green eyes clear for a change, and locked on my face. “Do you love him?”

“I have love for him.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I knew that. “What do you want me to say, Joe?”

“Make it make sense to me.”

“Make what make sense?”

“You and him.”

“Oh god.” I laughed. “How long do you have?”

“All night.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I thought about it for a while, trying to find a diplomatic way of saying ‘because if I have any chance of getting over you, I need to be with a boy who’s the complete opposite’ before settling on, “I guess, I’ve always known where I stand with Paul.” Something I’ve never known with you.

“Where you stand?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slowly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I know it’s not perfect. It’s really, really far from perfect, but at least I’m navigating our relationship with a clear head and my eyes open.” And most importantly, I can’t get hurt. “I know his game, and he’s not going to be able to pull the wool over my eyes.”

“That sounds miserable.”

“It’s safe.” Safer than you.

“So, he’s your shield.”

“My shield?”

“From getting fucked over.” Joey’s brows furrowed. “Why keep it going this long?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, feeling at a loss. “Probably because it’s all I’ve known since first year. Being with Paul is comfortable. There’s no work to it, and besides, he wants to be with me.” And you don’t.

Joey stared at me for the longest time before shaking his head. “It won’t last with him.”

“No?” Oh god, I hope not. “You don’t think?”

“No.” He shook his head again. “Any relationship that is held together because it’s comfortable, isn’t a relationship worth having.”

I huffed out a breath. “Yeah, well, take it from someone with first-hand knowledge of this kind of thing, sometimes comfortable is as good as it gets.”

“Bullshit. Comfortable isn’t as good as it gets,” Joey challenged, narrowing his eyes. “You shouldn’t settle for comfortable, Molloy. You shouldn’t settle for anything less than being in love to the point of madness. The only person that you should be settling for is the person who unsettles you the most. The person who drives you to brink of suicide because he or she makes you feel so fucking much that you can’t catch your breath or remotely function without them. And what’s more is you won’t want to. You won’t want to breathe, or feel, or fucking function without them. That’s how you’ll know that it’s a real relationship, Molloy. Only when you’re feeling the most discomfort you’ve ever felt in your entire life, should you even consider settling. Because that’s when you’ll know you’re in love, which, sounds to me, like a hell of a lot nicer way to live than settling for someone you have nothing in common with because it’s comfortable.”

Whoa.

My breath hitched in my throat as my heart decided to jackknife in my chest. “You really believe that?”

“For you?” He nodded without a hint of uncertainty. “Absolutely.”

“What about you?”

“What about me, Molloy?”

“Is that what you’re holding out for?” I whispered, pulse racing. “That kind of epic love?”

“No,” he said flatly.

My heart sank. “Why not?”

“Because you have to care about someone to fall in love.” He gave me a hardened look. “And I don’t care about anyone, remember?”

Now, I was the one to say, “Bullshit.” Twisting sideways in my seat, I met his hard look with one of my own. “You care about me, Joe.”

“You’re my friend,” he conceded.

“Yeah, your friend that you care about.”

“Molloy.”

“It’s okay to care about me, Joe.”

He glared at me. “I don’t care.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, you do.”

“Listen, the only one I’ve ever been able to depend on being there is my shadow, and that’s how I like it,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t care about people because I can’t afford to. I don’t have the time in my life or the space inside of my head to allow myself to care about anyone other than my family. That’s me, okay? That’s who I am. I can’t afford to care, Molloy.”

“Well, that sucks because I do,” I tossed back, feeling hurt, and flustered, and a million other emotions in this moment. “I care about you, Joey, and I always have.”

It had never been my brightest idea.

Too bad I was headstrong and incessantly reckless with my heart.

Too bad I was determined to care about him regardless.

“Don’t fucking say it out loud,” Joey groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Christ Molloy, why do you always have to go too far? Why can’t you just keep that shit to yourself, please!”

“You mean like you?” I demanded, unflinching. “You know, Joe, one of these days you’re going to have to stop lying to yourself and admit how you feel.”

“There’s nothing to admit.”

“Yes, there is, and you know it.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re just afraid to admit it,” I argued, holding a finger up. “Because that means you’ll have to acknowledge the fact that there’s a girl sitting right in front of you who cares about you for no other reason than that she just does! A girl who isn’t depending on you to do anything for her other than be her friend! A girl who sees just how much of an asshole you can be, but cares about you regardless, because I do, Joe. I absolutely fucking care, despite your shit-head tendencies, hell, maybe even because of them.” I threw my hands up in resignation. “Who the hell knows anymore?”

“If you could just try to understand what I’m trying to do,” he bit out, and then exhaled a ragged breath. “If you only knew what I was trying to spare you from, you wouldn’t push for this.”

“Push you for what?” I demanded, heart thudding violently. “Your friendship?”

“Push for anything from me,” he roared back. “Fuck!”

Eyes bulging with temper, I went right ahead and pushed him. Literally. With both hands. “How’s that for a push, you big coward!”

“Don’t fucking start,” Joey warned, holding an arm up to ward me off. “Don’t even think about going there with me. It won’t end well.”

“Too late.” I pushed him again and then I did it twice more for good measure. “Come on, tough guy, at least now I’m pushing for more in the only way you seem to understand!”

“Molloy.”

I pushed him.

“I’m warning you.”

I pushed him again.

“Goddammit, Molloy.” Tossing me onto my back, Joey pinned my hands to my sides, and leaned in close. “You reek of desperation and it’s such a fucking turn off.”

He was saying the cruelest things, but his eyes told a different story entirely, as he hovered over me, chest heaving against mine, as his body thrummed with tension.

“Why would I care about a girl who offers herself up on a plate for the taking?” Narrowing his eyes, he leaned even closer, and hissed, “You’re another fella’s girlfriend and yet here you are, on the flat of your back for me like a slut.”

“Get off me!” I practically snarled, temper frayed, as his words cut me to the bone. “Now, asshole!”

“No fucking problem,” he sneered, equally furious, as he jerked back.

“You can be such a fucking bastard!” I screamed, as I flung the passenger door open and jumped out of the car. “The biggest one I’ve ever met!”

“And you can be such a fucking bitch,” he roared back, before quickly climbing out of the car after me. “Wait – where are you going?”

“Away from you!”

“It’s your car, Molloy.”

Dammit. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t have any shoes on.”

Double dammit. “I don’t care!”

“Molloy, cop on to yourself, will ya?” His tone was hard and laced with frustration. “You’re not walking home in the dark on your own.”

“Why not? Afraid I’ll be easy pickings since I’m such a slut and all that?”

“Would you just stop moving for a sec—“

“No, now fuck off – and don’t even think about coming after me!”

“Don’t walk away from me, Molloy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole.” Upping my pace, I hurried around the street corner, and quickly crossed the road. Because it was so close to Christmas, people continued to spill out from pubs and bars.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ His strong arms came around my body, pulling me flush against his chest. “Just hold up, will you?”

“Let go,” I warned, shivering when his hands clamped down firmly on hips, keeping my back pressed closely to his chest. “Now.”

“I fucked up,” came his thick response, as his breath fanned my cheek. “Forgive me.”

“No.” My heart raced wildly. “You hurt my feelings.”

“Be my friend again, Molloy.”

“No.” Shaking my head, I twisted around to look up at him. “You said that to hurt me, you knew it would, and if I forgive you, you’ll only hurt me again.”

“Yeah, I probably will.” Green eyes, so lonesome and full of regret seared me. “But I won’t mean to.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I won’t hurt you on purpose again.”

Accidentally or on purpose; it hurts just the same.

“I can’t.” Releasing a shaky breath, I took a step back. “You really hurt me with that.”

“I care.” Reaching out a hand, he grabbed the front of the hoodie I was wearing – his hoodie – and fisted the fabric as he pulled me back to him, our bodies flush together. “I care. I care. I care,” he repeated, eyes locked on mine, as his hand moved up from my hoodie to cup my neck. “Too much.”

“See?” Blowing out a ragged breath, I sagged forward, letting my head fall against his chest. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

“I know, Molloy.” Resting his chin on my head, he sighed heavily. “I know.”