Gerard Gibson was becoming a super ninja at evasion, somehow managing to avoid me all day at school, much to my disappointment.
I felt awful about the whole Lizzie drama last night, and knew he had to be stressed about Mark’s return. The fact that he hadn’t shown up in my room last night, or appeared in the kitchen for breakfast this morning, only proved to me that things were a lot worse in Gerard’s head than I’d originally anticipated.
Even though he didn’t join us at lunch, I knew he was at school because I’d passed him in the hallway a couple of times, while he was in full-blown erratic Gibsie mode.
Regardless of how unsettled I felt, I’d remained at Tommen after school to watch his game. Like a faithful friend, I’d stood in the torrential rain with Shannon and cheered our boys on just like I had every other game.
After eighty minutes of intense, physical athletic performance, our school’s rugby team had ended up thrashing St. Andrews off the pitch with a final scorecard of 64–3, with Gerard receiving ten minutes in the sin bin for a tactical foul on the opposition’s number thirteen.
Instead of waiting at the car with Shan for the boys to come out afterwards, I found myself knocking on the changing room door instead, both unwilling and unable to let another minute tick by without talking it out with him.
“Hi!” I beamed when the door finally swung open. “Is Gerard there?” I fully appreciated the fact that the boys were probably celebrating in there, but I couldn’t wait another second. Hence, my current overstepping of boundaries – and school rules. “I really need to talk to him.”
“Who wants to know?” a boy I wasn’t familiar with replied, keeping a firm hold on the changing room door to prevent me from entering, no doubt.
“Uh, me?” I rolled my eyes. “Clearly.”
“And you are?”
“Who am I?” I gave him a slow appraisal, taking note of the towel hanging precariously low on his narrow hips. “Who are you, more like?”
“Damien Cleary.”
“And where did you come from, Damien?”
“I’m new,” he replied flatly. “Transferred in from St. Pat’s for sixth year.”
“Well, Damien Cleary—” I smiled sweetly up at him “—I’m Claire Biggs. I’m sixteen, a Leo, and a fellow Tommen student, and I really need to speak to Gerard, so if you could be a doll and grab him for me, I would be super grateful.”
He stared blankly at me for several beats before attempting to close the door in my face.
“Hey!” I snapped, sticking my foot in the door, and pushing it back open. “Rude much?”
“I might be new, but I’m not thick,” he deadpanned. “There’s no Gerard on the team, princess, so run along.”
“Excuse me?” I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, there is. He just ran over two tries for your team, Damien.”
“No, there’s not. I think I’d know my teammates’ names. Now fuck off.”
My mouth fell open in shock. “Wow, you really are rude.”
“Hey – you can’t come in here!” Damien argued, when I pushed at the door and tried to squeeze past. “Lads, there’s a crazy blonde out here. Cover your cocks!”
“He’s number seven on the team, idiot,” I huffed, shoving past rude boy in my bid to get to my destination. “And ew! Like I would ever want to look at any of your baby elephant trunks.”
“Biggs, your sister’s on the warpath.”
“Hey, baby, this elephant trunk expands.”
“Sure it does, Robbie,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “And I’m sure when it does it’s as easy to find as Where’s Wally.”
“Oooh, burn, lad!”
“So, this is what the boys’ changing room is like,” I mused, hands on my hips, as I observed thirty or so teenage boys scrambling to get dressed, while feeling both impressed and jealous of the rugby team’s top-notch facilities. Holy crap, they even had their own physio room. Fancy. “Well, I think it’s fair to say that you all should be ashamed of yourselves,” I added, pegging my nose from the overwhelming stench of teenage boy. “Because this place is a pigsty!”
“Whoa, Claire, this is the boys’ changing room,” Patrick called out, rushing to cover his dignity with a rugby ball. “You know you can’t come in here, right?”
“Hi, Patrick!” I made a beeline for him. “So sorry for the intrusion, but I really need to speak to Gerard.”
“He was late coming up from the pitch. Try the showers,” he replied, using his free hand to point me in the right direction.
“Thanks so much.” Smiling, I waved him off. “You’re the best – oh, and nice ball.”
“Jesus.”
“Claire!” Hugh roared, storming through another doorway only partially dressed in a pair of gray sweats. Yikes, he looked just as angry today as he had been last night. Clearly, sleeping on it hadn’t brightened his mood. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Looking for Gerard,” I explained with a huff. “And that new boy over there was super rude to me,” I added, jabbing a finger in the direction of Damien. “He told me to fuck off.”
“You told my sister to fuck off?” Hugh’s attention immediately flicked to Damien, and I felt an immense amount of pleasure when he turned beetroot red. “In what world did you assume it was okay to speak to her like that?”
“My bad, Biggs. I didn’t know she was your sister.”
“It wouldn’t matter either way,” Johnny answered, appearing from the tall archway that led to the showers in a pair of black boxer shorts. “You’re new, Cleary, so I’m going to give you a hall pass this time. But for future reference, we don’t talk to our girls like that. You got that?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Rude boy’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Won’t happen again, Cap.”
Oh boy, it was quite the power trip to be around Johnny Kavanagh. The boy oozed intensity. Lucky Shan.
“Yeah, Cleary,” I tossed out, feeling brave with the backing of the alpha. “You see that it doesn’t!” And then, because I was still three years old in the prefrontal cortex of my brain, I poked my tongue out at him for good measure.
“You have about two minutes before Coach comes in for post-game analysis,” Johnny explained, flicking his attention back to me. “Make it snappy.”
“You’re the best captain boss ever!” Patting his ridiculously hard pectoral, I scampered through the archway. “And good job winning your game.”
Following the sound of running water with a pep in my step, I stopped short when I rounded the corner and came face to back with a naked flanker.
The moment my eyes landed on his bare butt, a high-pitched, “Omigod,” escaped my lips and I quickly slapped a hand over my eyes and backed up against the opposite wall, heart racing violently. “I’m really sorry for what I’m about to tell you, but I think I just saw your ladder dangling between your legs.”
“So?” A familiar chuckle came from the shower area. “You’ve seen my ladder before.”
My heart raced harder at that. “Uh, not from that angle, I haven’t.”
“What’s up, Claire-Bear?”
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day,” I explained, feeling a ridiculous amount of relief at being in his company again. “You are a hard man to track down, Gerard Gibson.”
“I saw you at school.”
“No,” I corrected, hand still clamped over my eyes, as the damp perspiration on the tiles at my back began to seep into my school uniform. “I waved to you in the hallway between classes, and you waved back. That’s not the same thing.” Blowing out a shaky breath, I forced myself to address the elephant in the room. “Where the hell were you last night? I came over and you were gone. And Mark was there!”
The sound of flowing water abruptly stopped.
“Gerard?” I called out when he didn’t respond. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard you.” His voice was closer now. “And yeah, I know.” I felt his hand brush past against my arm, and it caused my entire body to ignite in a hot flush. “Sorry.” I felt his hand on my hip, gently steering me to one side. “My towel is on the hook behind you.”
“Okie-dokie,” I squeaked out, feeling my face grow hot from the knowledge that his naked body was so close to me. It was more than just that, though, because I wanted to open my fingers and peek. Not just peek. I wanted to touch. Remembering how it felt in my room the other night when his big body was pressed against mine and his fingers were deep inside me …
“All clear.” I felt him gently peel my hand away from my eyes. “The ladder is safely tucked away.”
When I blinked my eyes open, I found that to be regrettably true. The white towel wrapped around his narrow hips was proof to that pudding.
Aw crackers.
Feeling weak, I slumped against the tiles at my back. “So, Mark’s back, huh?”
“Apparently so.”
“You didn’t know?”
“Nope,” Gerard replied, resting a hand against the wall at my back. “No clue.”
Breath catching in my throat, I swallowed deeply and offered him a small smile, desperately trying to ignore the heat flooding every inch of my body. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” He smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m always okay.”
“You didn’t come over last night.” I shrugged, feeling helpless. “It was … ” I didn’t like it. “Weird.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Exhaling shakily, Gerard reached up with his free hand and pushed his damp curls off his brow. “You were dealing with Lizzie, and I, ah, I had to get away.”
“So, where’d you go?”
“Cap’s.”
“Oh.”
“Yep.”
Feeling slightly bereft at his response, I forced another big smile.
He smiled back at me, but again, it didn’t meet his eyes.
Aw crackers.
I didn’t like this. Not one bit. Because Gerard might be physically standing in front of me, with nothing but a towel covering him, but internally he had several layers wrapped around his heart. “Talk to me, Gerard.”
“About what?”
I narrowed my eyes. “About what happened last night.”
He stared blankly back at me. “What about what happened last night?”
“Uh, hello? Lizzie basically attacked you and then you find out your evil stepbrother is back in Ballylaggin.”
“It’s all good, Claire-Bear.”
“Gerard,” I snapped, “I know you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Yes, you are,” I urged. “You have to be.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because Mark’s back.”
“I honestly couldn’t give a damn, Claire.”
“No, stop.” Shaking my head in frustration, I reached up and knotted my fingers in the silver chain around his neck. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Act the fool,” I growled, yanking on his chain so hard he had to lower his face to mine. “Don’t shut me out, Gerard. We’ve come too far for that.”
“I’m not trying to do that,” he said gruffly, nose brushing against mine. “I’m just … ”
“You’re just?” I pushed, fisting his chain so tightly I thought it might crack in my hand. Inhaling a shaky breath, I pushed off the wall, melding my chest to his. “You’re just what, Gerard?”
“You’re going to get wet,” he noted, hooking an arm around my waist to steady us both.
“Don’t change the subject,” I warned, unwilling to take a step back. “You’re just what?”
“You know it’s a really bad idea to be in here with me, don’t you?” he asked in a gravelly tone, and I could feel exactly why he would say that growing against my belly. “Especially since … ” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “This is just a really, really bad idea, Claire-Bear.”
“I don’t care,” I replied, feeling a little breathless, as my heart continued to try to power drill its way out of my chest to get to his. “We need to talk, so just talk to me, dammit.”
“And say what?” he asked softly, breath fanning my face.
“How about you start by telling me how you feel?”
“I don’t feel anything.” He stepped closer, causing my back to hit the wall once more, but this time his body was flush against mine. “Not about Lizzie. Not about him. Not about any of them.” The move seemed to cause a shiver to roll through both of our bodies simultaneously. “I don’t feel a damn thing.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m really not.”
“Gerard,” I cried out in despair. “Please!”
“Please what?” he demanded then. “Please what, Claire? What do you want from me?”
“You!” My chest was heaving against his, my entire body screaming out for him, and I honestly felt like I might die on the mortal spot if he didn’t put his lips on me. “I want you, Gerard!”
“I’m right here.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” I strangled out. “I want you to talk to me about how you’re feeling! I want you to open up to me, dammit!”
“I can’t.”
Devastation washed over me like a tidal wave. “Why not?”
“Because I love you too much!” he surprised me by saying. Expelling a pained breath, he dropped his head to rest on my shoulder. “Because I fucking love you, Claire Biggs.”
The three words hurt to hear because they weren’t what I needed from him in this moment, and the pain in my chest assured me that my devastated body had come to the equally devastating conclusion that these three words were all this boy would ever give me.
“I don’t understand why you act like this,” I croaked out, feeling like a masochist for pushing the same broken narrative. “I’m your best friend, and instead of letting me in, you keep pushing me out.”
“Claire.”
“No. No more excuses, Gerard!” Shaking my head, I pushed at his chest and willed him to wake the hell up. “I’m right here, okay? I’m right here for you.”
“I know that.”
“Then do something!”
He didn’t.
Instead, he opened his mouth. “Claire, if you could just … ”
“No. Stop!” I shook my head. “I don’t need any more of your excuses, Gerard Gibson.” Chest heaving, I stepped around him and moved for the exit. “I need your truth.”
