Page 329 of Keeping 13

I choked out a pained laugh, thinking about that stupid bet. “You heard about that?”

“Yeah.” Half sobbing, half laughing, Shannon smiled and nodded. “I won.”

“Hands down.” I kissed her puffy lips. “Undisputed.”

“Now, I’m keeping 13,” she told me. “So come home to me when you’re done, okay?”

“I will.”

78

Summer Loving

Shannon

Dear Shannon,

It’s me—Johnny. I’m writing this so I can, once again, surprise and impress you with my mad letter-writing skills. Ta-da! See, I told you not to worry about that knock I took on the pitch last weekend. It looked worse on the telly than it felt—and I still remember how to write, buy a stamp, and post a letter, so my brain’s still working. I hope this letter finds you well. I’m praying that you’re missing me just as much as I’m missing you. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.

I’m at the training camp in South Africa with the senior team. I’m rooming with Mick fucking Flanagan, baby—our CAPTAIN…which I feel stupid as fuck writing down in a letter, considering we spoke about this on the phone an hour ago.

I miss you.

Every bit of me misses every bit of you. I miss the feel of you. Sleeping alongside you. Talking to you. Driving around Ballylaggin with you in the passenger seat. Fuck, I’m pretty sure I’m starting to miss your brothers, too. That’s how bad this time apart is getting for me. It’s not just the sex I miss either, Shan—though my dick misses you with a ferocity bordering on pain.

Are you well? You always tell me you’re fine on the phone, but I can hear sadness in your voice. I don’t say it because it’s the same for me. I’m learning that I don’t cope well when you’re not around, Shan. I spend my nights stalking that bleeding Bebo account that Claire set up for you, and I tell you this without a single ounce of shame. *By the way, I made my own account so accept me as your other half, please.* …Oh, and feel free to private mail me some nudes. I could do with some new material. My memory never seems to do you justice.

There’s a beach here about four miles from the team hotel, and every time I walk on the sand, I think of you. Of that day we spent at the beach back home.

You’re in my mind all the time, Shannon. My heart, too. You did something to me all those months ago. I think you broke me, because I’ve not been right since. When we’re apart like this, I feel unsteady, like I’m balancing a weight on my shoulders and my reward for not dropping it is seeing your face again.

So, yeah, there it is…

I’m going to tell you something in this letter, something I couldn’t say on the phone or in a text because I don’t think I could handle your immediate response…

I’m scared, Shannon. I feel like a fish out of water on this tour. The lads on the team? They’re all so much older than me—with years more experience. They’re real, grown-up men, baby, and I feel like I’m a walking transplant, some young fucker running on luck and borrowed time.

I’ve never felt that way before. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, to be honest. Most of the time, I’m two minutes away from throwing in the towel and catching the next flight home to you. I’m still here, though, because I made you a promise that I would shine…or sparkle, or whatever the hell it was that you asked me to do. There’s talk of me actually starting this Saturday instead of coming off the bench, so maybe I’ll get the job done then.

It’s intense here, Shannon. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The U20s tour was a walk in the park in comparison to senior level. I started every single game—no pressure. But this? Jesus, my best is only middling in this quality of a team, and that is enough to make me want to quit. I’ve never felt like quitting before—it’s never crossed my mind. I’m working on trying to find my feet. Fighting for a jersey that’s always been mine is unsettling. Knowing that there’s half a dozen world-class players ready to swoop in and take that from me if I put one foot out of place is a pressure I’m struggling to manage. I’m on edge all the time, Shannon… Maybe I’m just homesick, or maybe I’m overthinking things, or maybe I just left my head back in Cork with you?

On the plus side, I’ve gained a stone in muscle. I’m over six foot four now, too. But enough of my bullshit, how’s your summer going? Is Gibsie okay? Has Joey been in touch yet? Is Sean saying any new words? What about Aoife? Any sign of her? How’s my Sook? Those boys better not be drawing on her. Do you have a tan? Are you smiling? Christ, I miss you…

I know you tell me everything is fine when we talk on the phone, but if you’re like me and find it too hard to talk over a phone, then maybe you could write me back with another letter of your own.

You know what? I don’t think my English essay in the junior cert was as long as this letter. What does that say about me? Note: I hope you’re not worrying about those bleeding junior cert results. I know you kicked ass. Fuck, I love you. Did I write that down yet? Fuck it, if I haven’t then here it is again. I love you Shannon Lynch. All of you. Every part.

Anyway, I’m running out of room to write on both sides of this paper so I’ll take it as my cue to finish up. Oh, and could you ask my ma to stop calling so much? I know she’s missing me, but it’s getting out of hand.

Yours always,

Johnny. x

(PS: My dick is still in my pants, and my love is still a crazy fucking amount.)

Carefully folding Johnny’s letter back into its envelope, I tucked it under my pillow to join the others before reaching for the box sitting on my bed with my name on it.

Holding the box in my hands, I stared down at his neat handwriting and sighed longingly. Our communication these past six weeks had consisted of a steady flow of texting and late-night phone calls, letters, and packages, but it wasn’t enough. Not by half. I could feel his anxiety dripping off the page and it hurt my heart. All I wanted to do was board a plane andgoto him, but he would be home soon. A few days later than originally anticipated, but still,homewas in sight.

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