“I talk to everyone, sir,” Gibsie shot back with a chuckle. “And the back row is full.” Waggling his brows, he added, “Looks like I’m going to have to sit up front with you.”
“Like hell you are.” Eyeing the back row of desks, Coach pointed a finger. “Bella, move up to the fifth row with Kavanagh. Gibsie, take her seat.”
No…
Why, God, why?
“Fine,” Gibsie sulked. “But I’m taking these,” he added, grabbing a box of tissues off the desk as he stalked to the back of the classroom and proceeded to wipe down the chair before slumping down. “Can’t be too careful these days.”
“Are you alright there, Kavanagh?” Coach Mulcahy asked as I tried to maneuver my way down the narrow rows of desks, ignoring the glowering girl sitting at my fucking desk. “Do you need a cushion to sit on?”
“No, sir,” I bit out as I gingerly lowered myself onto my seat, careful not to brush againsther. “My arse is grand.”
“Are you sure?” Coach asked, watching me warily. “Do you need a hand?”
Loud snickering came from Hughie and Feely who were perched at the back of the class. Two seats over from them, Gibsie was doubled over his desk laughing. Twisting around, I not so discreetly gave him the finger. Gibsie returned the gesture by shoving his hand under his desk and pretending to wank himself—toppling a stack of books off the desk with his overenthusiastic performance.
Lovely.
Just fucking lovely.
“Or a mouth?” a familiar voice sneered in my ear.
Disgusted, I turned to glare at Bella. “What did you say to me?”
She rolled her eyes. “It was a joke, Johnny.”
“You think because you’re a girl it’s okay to say shite like that to me?” I hissed.
“Relax,” she spat out, drumming her long nails on the desk. “I was just making con—”
“Conversation,” I supplied. “Yeah, I got that.”Fucking double standards.“Well, here’s me making conversation: don’t fucking talk to me.”
“You’re an asshole,” Bella growled, purposefully poking me with her elbow. I presumed she meant to hurt me, but it was just plain irritating. “So, what’s going on with you and the Lynch girl?”
Clenching my jaw, I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest, dutifully ignoring her.
Don’t feed the crazy.
Don’t feed the crazy.
“Answer me,” she whispered-hissed.
Give me strength…
“You might as well answer me because I’m going to keep—”
“She’s my girlfriend,” I spat out, losing my cool. “Now stop fucking talking to me.”
Bella’s expression fell. “Your girlfriend?”
I nodded stiffly and turned my attention back to the nurse listing off types of STDs on the projection at the front of the class.
“You’ve lost your mind,” Bella growled. “What are you going to do with a girlfriend? You’re leaving in a couple of months.”
You don’t fight with girls.
You don’t fight with girls.