Part 3 – THIRD YEAR
SEPTEMBER 1ST 2001
AOIFE
“WHERE’D you want me to toss the old one?”
Jerking awake at the sound of the familiar voice, I sprang up in my bed and craned my neck to hear better.
“Throw it out in the yard.” That was my dad’s voice. “I’ll load it into the van later and take it to the dump.”
“You sure?” My eyes widened in horror. “It’s a cast iron tub. Could be worth something if ya take it to Timmy Murphy over in Glenmore? He wheels and deals in scrap.”
“He has a young one in the same year as yourself and the twins, doesn’t he?”
“Neasa. Yeah, she’s in my class. Listen, I could give him a buzz, if you want? He might throw ya a score for it.”
“Nah, the thing is on its last legs. It’s red rotten underneath. It wouldn’t make the price of the diesel it would cost me to drive it over there.”
Oh my god.
“Fair enough.”
He did not!
“Good man, Joey, can you carry that downstairs on your own?”
He did!
“Yeah, Tony, it’s not a bother. I’ll have to head off around three today, though. I’ve a match at the pavilion.”
Dad brought him home.
“Jesus, son, you’re as strong as an ox. And that’s not a bother. We’ll have it finished by then.”
Again!
And I looked like something that had been dragged through a ditch.
Perfect.
The prospect of seeing Joey, after spending a whole summer of not seeing his face every weekday morning in class, had me throwing the covers off my body, and springing off my bed, only to faceplant the floor in epic fashion, stubbing my toe on the metal corner of my bed as I fell.
“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the donkey,” I cried out, along with an array of colorful curse words. Twisting onto my back, I let out a strangled keening noise, as I grabbed my foot and held it to my chest. “Ow, ow, ow…”
My bedroom door swung inwards then, revealing my worried looking father standing in the doorway.
“What in the name of Christ are ya doing, Aoif?” he asked, pressing a hand to his chest. “I thought there was a cat on heat in your room with the noises you were making.”
“No cat on heat. Just… me,” I mumbled, letting my head fall back against my bedroom carpet, pride – and toe – wounded. “What are you doing?”
“Joey’s giving me a hand to replace the old bathroom,” Dad explained. “Your mother wants the bath taken out, and an electric shower put in instead.”
“Sounds expensive,” I replied, wondering how we could afford a new bathroom. “What’s wrong with what we already have?”
“You know your mother,” Dad said with a weary sigh.
Yeah, I did, and I knew my father, too.
What Mam wanted, Dad got for her, regardless of whether he could afford it or not, usually as a form of compensation for his latest slip.
A new bathroom was a small price to pay for his wandering eye, I suppose.
It wouldn’t do me an ounce of good to know the name of my father’s latest mistake.
Not when I already knew the names of too many of the ones that had come before this one.
Frowning, Dad said, “Ah, Jaysus, Aoife, throw some clothes on, will ya?” He gestured to my bare legs. “Your brother’s downstairs with his friends, and I’ve the young fella over from work.”
“I was in bed,” I shot back defensively, pulling at the hem of my string top in a piss-poor attempt to conceal my thighs. “And I’m in my own room. I don’t make a habit of walking around in my knickers, Dad.”
“Still,” he grumbled, looking embarrassed, as he quickly turned on his heels and disappeared into the bathroom. “Did you ever hear of pajamas? And it’s ten o clock in the morning. Shouldn’t you be out of bed and doing something productive?”
Did you ever hear of doing something productive like keeping your dick in your pants?
“In case it slipped your attention, it’s like twenty-three degrees outside, which is freakishly rare for us, hence the knickers,” I tossed back. “And as for the lack of productivity, I have two days left of my summer holidays before school starts back up on Monday, and I’m thrown into revising for the Junior Cert, father dearest, and I have every intention of making the most of said days.”
“So?” I heard him call out from the bathroom. “That’s no excuse to laze around all weekend. You should find something productive to do.”
“And you should find yourself a moral compass.”
“What was that, love?”
“Nothing.” Feeling my heart sink into the pit of my stomach, I climbed to my feet. “Nothing at all, Dad.”
What a lovely way to end the summer holidays, I thought to myself dejectedly, as I padded across my room to close my door. Your father’s fucking around again, and instead of dealing with your father’s infidelity, your mother’s spent the savings on a new bloody bathroom.
“That’s loaded into the van, Tony. Do you want to strip that Lino flooring while we’re at it? That way, we only need to make the one trip to the dump…” Joey’s voice trailed off when he stopped short in the landing, just outside my bedroom door, and right in front of yours truly.
The minute his eyes landed on my bare legs; I felt a flush of heat wash over my skin. I didn’t feel the need to hide my body, not when I was thrilled that he was finally looking.
Besides, I wasn’t the self-conscious type. I had a nice body, and I wasn’t about to convince myself that I hadn’t, especially when the rest of the world was more than willing to chip away at a teenager’s self-esteem.
“Enjoying the show?” I teased, planting my hands on my hips, when his eyes continued to trail over me. I thought it was quite poetic that I returned the same sarcastic question he’d asked me once before.
In equally unapologetic fashion, he took his sweet time returning his gaze to my face. “It beats the view of your father’s ass crack, that’s for sure.”
I arched a brow. “It?”
Humor danced in his eyes, a rare change from the usual, generic fuck-the-world-and-everyone-in-it glower he doled out to just about everyone. “You.”
It wasn’t like we hadn’t seen each other during the summer. I’d swung by the garage on many the occasion to torment him when he was working with Dad, and I’d been to most of his and Paul’s matches, but we had been surrounded by friends or my dad.
Ridiculous as it sounded, I missed our little one-on-one moments.
Sure, they might have occurred against his will at times, but I knew that he enjoyed my banter as much as I enjoyed his.
Heart bucking wilder than necessary, given the fact that it was only the boy’s eyes that were on me, and not his hands, I reached up and brushed my thumb over his swollen bottom lip, addicted to tormenting him. “What’s that on your mouth, Joe; drool?”
“Don’t do that.” His green eyes darkened. “Not here.”
“Don’t do what?” Tone heavily laced with sarcasm, I traced his bottom lip with my thumb and grinned. “This?”
“Play your games when your father is across the landing.”
“Why not?” I teased, hell bent on playing games. “Are you afraid he’ll catch you looking at his daughter like you want to eat her up.” I stepped closer, waiting for him to crack and be the first to move away. “Do you, Joe? Do you want to eat me up?”
Reaching up, Joey snatched my wrist with his big hand, but instead of pushing me away like I was prepared for him to do, he pulled me towards him – so close that my body was pressed against his.
“Don’t try to fuck with my head, Molloy.” His voice was low and heated, and held the hint of warning. “I indulge you by playing your little games, but don’t push your luck.”
“My luck?” I breathed, heart racing violently, as I watched him watch me.
“Your luck,” he confirmed. “There’s only so far you can push me.”
I could do nothing but stare at his face and resist the urge to slap it – or kiss it.
I wasn’t sure which.
“I’m not Ricey. I won’t kiss your cheek and hold your hand,” he added, tone heated. “You keep goading me into touching you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” His pupils dilated and my heart hammered recklessly against my ribcage. “You might think that you’re brave enough to take me on, to go toe to toe with me, but make no mistake about this.” Leaning in close, he pressed his lips to my ear, and whispered, “You’re not the wolf in our story, Molloy.“ His breath fanned my cheek, causing my pulse to skyrocket. “You’re the lamb.”
“What’s that, Joey, lad?” my father called out from where he was kneeling in the bathroom, with his back to the landing.
“Nothing, Tony,” Joey called back, not moving one muscle, as he turned his attention back to me. “You’re the sweet, innocent lamb that’s hellbent on playing with fire,” he said, walking me backwards until my legs hit my bed. “So, you might want to stop hunting me, Molloy.” His hands moved to my hips, and he literally tossed me down on the mattress. “Because if you don’t?” With my wrists pinned to the mattress above my head, he stepped between my legs and leaned in close, so close that his nose brushed mine. “Then one of these days, I’m going to hunt you back.”
Oh fuck.
“You got that?” Releasing one wrist, he swiftly cupped my chin and forced me to look at him. “Friend?”
“I’ve got it.” Breathless and feeling faint, I felt myself nodding. “Friend.”
“Good girl.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You dick.”
He grinned victoriously down at me before releasing me and walking out of my room to rejoin my father in the bathroom.
On shaky legs, I hurried towards my bedroom door and slammed it shut, before blowing out a ragged breath. “Holy shit.”
Did that just happen?
A few hours later, after a whole lot of soul-searching and not a lot of job hunting, I found myself sprawled out on a towel on the lawn in our back garden, soaking in the last of the sunrays from the unusual heatwave, with the family dog curled up on the grass beside me.
Still mentally chewing over my earlier altercation with my classmate, I had been ordered by my father to go downstairs and stay out of their way.
My father had hit his limit this morning, when I had continued to hover in the bathroom doorway, making smart-ass comments about their shoddy work, and tormenting his precious apprentice.
It wasn’t my fault.
The boy was too damn distracting to not stare at, and too sharp-tongued to not play with, but that didn’t matter to Dad.
Banished from my own bedroom doorway for distracting my father’s, and I quote, ‘poor young fella’, I had retreated to the garden with the dog.
Ugh.
“What do you think, Spud?” Reaching down, I stroked his neck. “Hmm? I’m not a lamb, am I?”
Spud, who was a mix between a boxer and at least three other breeds, let out a groan of contentment, rolling onto his back and kicking wildly when I scratched his ear.
“Exactly,” I cooed. “A lamb could never give you such good ear scratches. That boy is full of crap.” And sexy as hell.
“Do you mind?” A dark shadow fell over me, blocking the sun. “My friends are here.”
“And?” I drawled, using my foot to kick my brother out of my way of the sunshine.
“And I’m trying to play WWE,” Kevin growled, shoving me back with his foot. “But they keep coming downstairs for drinks.”
“Don’t touch me with your freaky fungus feet,” I warned. “And so? What do your creepy little friends have to do with me?”
“It’s called athletes foot,” Kev shot back defensively. “And they’re not coming downstairs for drinks, dickhead, they’re coming down to gawk at you.”
Sliding my sunglasses off, I pulled myself onto my elbows and glared up at the scrawny little shit. “Don’t call me a dickhead, dickhead.”
“Aoife, come on,” he said, gesturing to where I was sprawled out. “Can’t you do that inside?”
“Can’t I sunbathe inside? Why no, Kevin, sorry but I can’t. That’s not how sunbathing works,” I deadpanned, readjusting the strap of my yellow bikini top.
“Then cover yourself up.”
“That’s not how sunbathing works either, Kev.”
“Aoife,” he groaned, tone whiny now. “Come on, you’re embarrassing me. Just go inside or put some clothes on.”
“How many days of sunshine do we get in Ireland, Kev?” I asked my half-twin.
Yeah, we might have shared a womb for nine months, but that was all we had in common. The truth was that we couldn’t have been any different from each other.
“The answer is not enough,” I told him. “Not enough by half. Besides, Dad’s upstairs, putting a new bathroom in with Joey, and I’ve already been banished.”
“Yeah, I saw he brought him over again,” my brother grumbled. “He could have asked me to help him with the bathroom.”
“Ha,” I laughed. “Like you know the first thing about manual labor.”
“He could show me,” Kev snapped in a defensive tone. “I’m a faster learner than that thick fucker upstairs.”
“Don’t call him thick,” I warned, hackles rising. “He’s more world wise than you’ll ever be.”
Kev rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, because knowing where to score drugs takes a real genius.”
“So, he smokes weed occasionally,” I heard myself defend. “Big deal, Kev. So do a lot of other people in our year. It doesn’t make him a bad person.”
“It doesn’t make him a good one either,” he shot back. “Why are you always defending him?”
“Because he’s my friend, Kevin.”
“Yeah? Well, your friend does a lot more than smoke weed.”
“Like you’d know.”
“I would, actually,” he replied. “I’m in his year, too, remember. I know what goes on just as well as you do.”
“Yeah, in the swot class,” I snorted. “And sure you do, Kev. You’re right in there with the big guns, aren’t ya? Mister popularity himself.”
“You think your looks and popularity are going to get you far in life?” he laughed. “You’re so stupid that it’s pitiful.”
“Look at you, getting all riled up and catty.” I grinned. “No need to pity me, dear brother, because I’m doing just fine for myself.”
“No, Aoife, I’m doing fine. I’m the one going places. The only way you’re getting out of this council estate is if you marry up,” he sneered. “Because you sure as shit won’t make it on your own. So, you might want to hold onto Paul Rice, because he’s looking like your best shot.”
“Oh, whatever, you dick.”
“It’s the truth.“
“Keep talking shit to me and I just might have to take my top off and give those gamer buddies of yours a real special show.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.” Narrowing my eyes right back at him, I reached for the string behind my neck and said, “I’m told I have perky nipples.”
“You’re such a bitch,” he spat before storming back to the house.
“Takes one to know one, you little pussy,” I called after him and then sighed in contentment, thrilled to have gotten the better of him. “Good one, huh?” I cooed, tickling Spud on his belly. “Yeah, I know you think he’s a dope, too. I don’t need a boy, do I? No, I don’t. I’ll make my own way in life.”
“Aoife Christina Molloy!” my mother called out a few minutes later. Pushing the kitchen window open, she leaned out and shook a wooden spoon at me. “Get into the house and cover yourself up before I come out there and drag you inside.”
“Are you serious?” I growled, giving Spud one final belly rub, before reluctantly climbing to my feet. “He told on me?”
“There are teenage boys in this house, Aoife,” Mam shot back. “And you’re sprawled out in the garden like Pamela fecking Anderson herself. Do you want to be the cause of giving them a turn?”
“I know how old they are, Mam. Most of them are in my year at school.” I laughed. “And you’re afraid I’ll give them a turn? More like a horn —“
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Mam warned, still waving around the wooden spoon like a demented housewife.
“Yeah, well, Dad told me to stay out of his way,” I shot back. “So, guess what I’m doing?”
“Enough of the cheek, young lady. Inside right now, or you’re grounded for the rest of the month. And that also includes having friends over. No phone, either. And no—”
“Jesus, fine,” I huffed, stalking to the back door. “Relax, would you. It’s not that serious.”
“Thank you,” Mam said when I stomped into the kitchen. “Now, go upstairs and throw on some clothes, like a good girl, before your brother has a conniption fit.”
“Is it okay if I get a drink before I’m exiled from the family home for possessing a pair of boobs?” I asked sulkily, as I reached into the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice. “Or is rehydrating a crime now, too?”
“Drama queen.” Rolling her eyes, Mam smirked and turned back to her ironing. “Pour me a glass, too.”
Grabbing two glasses out of the press, I poured a glass of orange juice and quickly gulped it down before refilling my glass and pouring one for Mam.
“Thanks, love.”
“You’re not welcome,” I teased, setting a glass down on the counter beside her.
“Trish, we’ve the bathroom just about done, love. I’m off to the dump with that old bath before they close,” my father called from the front hall. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ll see ya, Trish. Thanks for the sandwich.”
“You’re welcome, Joey, love.”
Resisting the urge to rush out into the hallway and take one last look at Joey Lynch before he left with my dad, I held firm, and took another sip of orange juice instead.
“Make sure you take that old Lino with you, Tony,” Mam called back, not bothering to look up from her ironing board. “And there’s a few bags of rubbish at the side of the house that could do with being cleared out.”
“Already taken care of.”
“Good man yourself.”
“A little heads up that Joey was coming over would’ve been nice,” I said once as the front door closed behind them.
“Ah, he’s a lovely boy, isn’t he? Such a hard little worker,” Mam gushed, smiling into her ironing. “I thought you’d be delighted to see him. The two of you are great little friends at school, isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, we’re buds,” I agreed, suppressing a laugh. “A head’s up would’ve been nice, though.”
“It’s a shame that he and your brother don’t seem to gel,” Mam added with a sigh.
“That’s not on Joey, Mam. Kev doesn’t gel with anyone,” I snorted, resting my hip against the counter. “He’s too stuck-up.”
“Aoife.”
“What?” I threw a hand up. “It’s true.”
“It would do your brother no harm to get off that computer and spend some time at the garage. I’m sure if he gave it a chance, they’d find some common ground.”
“Common ground with who? Dad or Joey? Because, no offense, Mam, but your darling baby boy thinks he’s above the both of them. Kev doesn’t have any intention of getting his hands dirty. He has too high of an opinion of himself to slum it with us normal folk.”
“He does not,” she scolded. “Don’t be mean.”
“So, what’s the story with the new bathroom?” I decided to change the subject by asking, unwilling to give my dope of a brother another second of airtime.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Mam.”
“Nothing, love.” My mother, who looked a lot like what I presumed the forty-something-year-old version of me would look like, smiled brightly. Too brightly. “It was just time for a change.”
“Mam,” I sighed, reaching over to stroke her leg with my foot. “Are you okay?”
I knew she wasn’t.
Her heart had been broken by my father for what had to be the fourth time in a matter of years – that I was aware of.
“I will be,” she replied, tone forcefully cheerful, as she tucked a blonde wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’m looking forward to a nice hot shower tonight.”
“So, who was it this time?” I asked then, poking the bear. I didn’t really want to know, or at least, I shouldn’t want to know, but I asked her anyway because I was a glutton for punishment. Reaching into her pile of neatly folded ironing that was stacked on the kitchen table, I retrieved a t-shirt and pulled it on. “Was it a one-off, or was it going on for a while?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Aoife,” Mam replied quietly. “And I don’t want you to think badly of him, either. He’s a good man, deep down, and a wonderful father.”
“Yeah, he is a good father,” I agreed, setting my empty glass in the sink. “But he’s a shitty husband, Mam.”
She, on the other hand, was a good wife, and a great mam, but that didn’t change the fact that her constant stream of forgiveness looked an awful lot like weakness in my eyes.
Sure, they seemed to have a decent relationship – when Dad wasn’t letting his wandering eye get in the way. In a weird way, they were pretty stable, and never seemed to let any discourse in their marriage interfere with mine or Kev’s lives.
“He makes a lot of mistakes,” Mam agreed, handing me the denim shorts she had just finished ironing.
“Too many mistakes,” I offered, stepping into my shorts and dragging them up my hips. “Too many times.”
“I know you have your own thoughts and opinions on how I should react to this,” she said evenly. “But it’s a lot easier to know what to do when it’s another person’s life you’re judging.”
“It seems pretty black and white to me.”
“That’s because you’re young.” She smiled. “The whole world isn’t black and white, Aoife. There’s a whole lot of grey in the middle.”
“I don’t understand,” I admitted with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t get how you can stay with him when he’s proven that he can’t be trusted.” I shook my head and pointed to her. “Look at how ridey you are, Mam.”
“Ridey?”
“It means desirable,” I explained. “Beautiful, gorgeous, fuckable —“
“Okay,” Mam laughed softly. “Thank you for compliment, but that’s enough of the bad language.”
“Well, it’s true. You are stunning, Mam,” I pushed. “Kev thinks his weirdo buddies are coming downstairs to see me, when half of the time it’s to sneak a peek at you.”
“Aoife,” she chuckled.
Sighing, I asked, “Why do you put up with it, Mam?”
“I love him,” she replied. “I have invested more than twenty years of my life into the man and had my children with him. And believe it or not, he loves me, too.”
“Then maybe he needs to love you better,” I told her. “Because his words and his actions aren’t exactly aligning, Mam.”
“No marriage is perfect.”
“No,” I agreed. “But not all wives are cheated on, either.”
“What about Paul?” Mam asked, steering the conversation towards me, tone defensive. “You love him, don’t you? Imagine having spent most of your life raising a family together and then having to—”
“No.”
Mam blinked in surprise. “No?”
“No,” I confirmed, with a shake of my head. “I don’t love Paul, and I have no plans on that status changing.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have no intention of giving a boy that kind of power over me,” I replied simply. “From my viewpoint, men let you down – even the good ones like dad can’t be trusted. So, why would I ever expose myself to that kind of pain? It would be emotional suicide.”
Mam looked flabbergasted as she let out a small laugh. “Aoife, if you don’t have feelings for the poor boy, then why in God’s name have you been going out with him for the past year and a half?”
“Because I choose to,” I explained. “Not because I need to.”
“And what about Paul?” she demanded. “Have you spared a thought for his feelings?”
“I never said I didn’t care about him, Mam, of course I care.” Shrugging, I added, “I’m fond of him – obviously. I just don’t have those crazy deep feelings that cloud common sense.”
She arched a brow. “Fond?”
I shrugged. “What’s wrong with fond?”
“Fond isn’t a word a girl normally uses to describe her feelings towards her boyfriend.”
“Well, that’s all I have, Mam.”
“But —“
“And if you think that Paul Rice is in love with me, then you’re wrong,” I was quick to point out. “His feelings are as replaceable to him as I am. If we broke up in the morning, I could guarantee you that it wouldn’t take him more than a week, two tops, to move on to someone else.”
“Aoife,” Mam gasped.
“What? It’s true.” Laughing, I waved a hand idly in the air. “That’s how fleeting boys’ feelings are – and I don’t just mean Paul, either. That’s all boys. Sure, he might be pride-hurt, but he would forget about me pretty quickly.”
“But—“
“Come on, Mam, it’s like you’ve just said; you’ve been married to Dad for twenty years, and that hasn’t stopped him from forgetting about you every time he strays.”
“So, this way of thinking is because of our marriage?”
“Maybe?” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I hope not.”
“But even if it is, I’m glad because it prepared me for the inevitable. Don’t catch feelings and you won’t get hurt.” I smiled. “Simple.”
“So, you’re saying that you never want to fall in love and get married?”
“It’s not like I’m one hundred million percent opposed to the idea of marriage and motherhood. If the right guy came along and proved me wrong, then sure, I could do it,” I admitted. “But I could never cope with the crap you’ve had to deal with. I could never do that, Mam. And certainly not with your grace. If I loved a man, and I mean truly, madly, deeply loved him, then I could never handle knowing that he was with another woman. It would destroy me. I would go insane. I could never forgive that level of betrayal. Hence why taking that chance seems too risky to me. So yeah, I’m probably going remain ring-free for the foreseeable forty plus years.”
“So, you wouldn’t care if say Paul went off with another girl?” Mam questioned. “You know, since you don’t love him and all?”
“Honestly, I’d probably be pissed off, but mostly relieved.”
Mam gaped. “Relieved?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Because he would have proven what I’ve known all along; that no man can be trusted.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Aoife, love,” Mam said, worrying her lip. “That’s an awfully cynical way of thinking.”
“Practical.” I winked. “It’s a practical way of thinking – and clearly the right way of thinking, considering the rumors I’ve heard.”
Mam gave me a disconcerting look. “What kind of rumors?”
I arched a brow and gave her a what do you think look.
“He cheated on you?” she demanded, immediately catching my drift. “Then what are you doing with him?”
“Ha!” I folded my arms across my chest. “Pot, meet kettle.”
She sighed heavily. “Aoife, love, you don’t have to put up with that sort of thing.”
“I know that I don’t,” I agreed. “And don’t worry, I’ve confronted Paul about the rumors.”
“And?”
I shrugged. “He says it’s all a pack of lies.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
“Would you?”
Mam gave me a sympathetic look.
“I don’t believe a single word that comes out of a single boy’s mouth,” I told her.
That’s not technically true.
You believe one boy.
“And how long have these rumors been circling?”
Longer than I cared to admit to my mother. “A while.”
“Do you know for sure that he hasn’t cheated on you?”
“Can anyone know that for sure?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why would you stay with him, Aoife?”
“Why do you stay with Dad?”
“That’s not a fair comparison,” she replied. “We’re married.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “You’re married, committed, in love, invested in one another, and it still happens. He still fucks you over repeatedly. So, if I’ve learned anything from you and Dad, it’s that no man, no matter how perfect he seems, can be trusted.”
“You shouldn’t be afraid to love a boy, Aoife.” Sadness filled her voice as she spoke. “Please don’t let our mistakes hold you back in life. It would break my heart to think that our relationship affected you to the point where you struggle to commit your heart to someone.”
“I’m not afraid of loving a boy,” I told her honestly. “I’m afraid of losing myself in one.”
“I hate to tell you this, but more often than not, the two go hand in hand.”
“I know.” That’s what scares me.
“Aoife.”
“Enough of the heavy.” Patting my mother’s shoulder, I gave her a bright smile before heading for the door. “I’m hot and sticky and in dire need of a shower.”
“Don’t you dare use that shower before I do,” Mam called after me. “I mean it, young lady, I’m having the first go of it.”
“Understood,” I replied as I hurried up the staircase, with every intention of doing just that.
Whipping off my t-shirt, I snatched a towel out of the hot-press, and legged it into the bathroom, cackling mischievously to myself.
“I mean it, Aoife Molloy, don’t even think about it!”
“I won’t,” I laughed, closing and locking the door shut before my mother could finish her threat.
Feeling smug, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and rubbed my hands together in gleeful anticipation, as I stepped into the fancy new shower and switched it on.
The motor roared to life, but nothing came out.
Not so much as a drop of water.
“What the hell?” I growled, twisting and turning the knobs in front of me. “Work, dammit, work.“
A knock sounded on the bathroom door then, and I blew out a frustrated breath.
Stomping over to my towel, I quickly wrapped it around my body, and unlocked the door before swinging it open. “I know what it looks like, but I swear I wasn’t going to use it before you…”
My words trailed off when my eyes landed on Joey.
“You’re back.”
“I’m back.”
“Well good.” Tightening my hold on my towel, I gripped the door and tried to play it cool. “Because you’ve done a crappy job installing this shower. The stupid thing doesn’t even work.”
“I know,” he replied, as he stepped around me and walked over the toilet. “That’s why I’m back.” Crouching down in front of the toilet, he reached behind the cistern. “Forgot to switch the stopcock back on.”
“The stopcock?” I laughed. “What the hell is that?”
Twisting the knob on a valve, Joey reached up and flushed the toilet and then hovered over the bowl, watching the water circle. Seemingly satisfied with that, Joey stood up and walked over to the shower and switched it on. This time, when the motor roared to life, it was accompanied by a steady spray of water coming from the jets. “Ta-da.”
“Yay!!” I clapped in delight. “My hero.”
“Easy to please you, Molloy.”
“That’s impressive, Joe.”
He snorted. “I turned the water back on.”
“I wouldn’t have known how to do that.”
He shrugged and moved for the sink, turning on the tap to wash his hands. “Well, enjoy your shower.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I plan to. Thanks again, Joe.”
“Anytime.”
Switching the tap off, he looked around for a towel, and when he couldn’t find one, he walked over to where I was standing and dried his hands on the bottom of my towel.
“Hey,” I growled, slapping at his hands. “Rude.”
“Nice towel,” he shot back with a cheeky wink before moving for the door. “I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy.”
“Hold up.” My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I followed him to the door, slipping around him to press my back to the wood. And keep him for a little bit longer. “Are you going to your match now?”
He didn’t look happy when he said, “That’s the plan.”
“Do you even want to play?”
My question seemed to throw him because his furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why would you even ask that?”
“Because you never look happy on the pitch,” I replied, readjusting my hold on my towel. Looking up at his face, I offered him a sad smile. “You never look happy anywhere.”
“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” he was quick to counter, immediately on the defense, as his walls shot up around him. “Watching everything I do like a fucking stalker.”
“Lower the gun, Joe.” Knowing every one of his tricks, I kept my tone even when I said, “I’m not the enemy.”
Joey glowered at me for a long moment before the hostility in his eyes eventually gave way to resignation. “I know.” Blinking, he released a harsh breath and shook his head. “I know, Molloy.”
“I know you do,” I replied, reaching up to rub the prickly fucker’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Heat blazed in his dark eyes when he snapped, “I’m not sorry.”
Yes, he was.
“I know.” Reaching up, I ruffled his blond hair and grinned. “I still forgive you.”
Unable to conceal his discomfort, or his agitated state in general, he ran a hand through his hair and gestured to where I was standing. “Can you move aside so I can leave? I’m going to be late for the match.”
“I’ll move aside,” I told him. “If you promise to wait for me.”
He frowned. “Wait for you?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “I’m coming with you.”
“Coming with me?” Another frown. “Where?”
“You’re going to the GAA pitch. I’m going to the GAA pitch. We can keep each other company on the walk.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not coming with me.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
Joey stared at me in horror, walls shooting back up at a rapid rate. “In what alternative universe did I give you the impression that I would want you to come with me?”
“How about the universe where you quit pretending that my mere presence irritates you and admit that you adore the ground I walk on.”
His mouth fell open. “I do not.”
“You do, too.” Smiling up at him, I patted his shoulder. “Friend.”
“I’m not your—“
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
Swiftly clamping his mouth shut, he swallowed. He stared at me for the longest time before growling, “You have five minutes and then I’m leaving.”
Grinning in victory, I patted his chest before stepping aside and moving for the shower. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Ten,” he bit out, swinging the bathroom door open. “Or I’m leaving without you.”
“Twenty,” I called over my shoulder as I dropped my towel and climbed into the shower. “You can wait in my room.”
The bathroom door slammed behind him, and then I heard him say, “Fifteen and that’s final.”
“Twenty,” I crooned, thoroughly enjoying his agitation.
“You’re a pain in my hole.”
I laughed.
