Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

BREAK A LEG

JOHNNY

Life was going fucking grand for me. Tara and I had been dating for a week—well, almost. Five days, three hours, and thirty minutes to be exact. It had been the best five days of my life. Being boyfriend and girlfriend—can you believe it? Sometimes, it felt surreal, but it was real.

We were real.

In those five days, we'd nearly been caught a good twenty times. It was as if, once we had become a couple, we had become clumsier, trying to keep our relationship under wraps. And, to be fair, not all those near-discoveries hadn't been entirely my fault—most of them, sure, but not all.

Being Tara Lynch's boyfriend was fucking amazing. I'd gone from being Jonathan, the lad she snogged in the locker room at the Academy, to being Jonathan, her current boyfriend. It was a beastly upgrade.

We'd agreed to keep our relationship private—just for us. At first, it had bothered me a bit, but it didn't anymore. Tara and I were a couple, and that was all I needed to know, what everyone needed to know. By now, most people in Tommen knew I was dating someone, but not who.

How did they find out? Well, turns out I wasn't the only one partial to giving hickeys—Tara was into it too. I reckon she liked marking me as hers, letting everyone know I had an owner. Especially Bella.

Tara wasn't jealous of her; in fact, she couldn't give a single shite about her. But she loved the power trip of using me to irritate her, who still fancied she had a shot with me. So every morning without fail, my girlfriend would leave a few fresh hickeys on my neck. I let her do it because I liked that she felt comfortable enough to mark me, comfortable with our relationship and, more importantly, it meant she was as obsessed with me as I was with her.

Me: You could've come to the match today.

Wifey <3: What match?

Gibsie had changed Tara's contact name in my phone to Wifey <3. Normally, I'd be pissed when he messed around with my contacts, but this time, it didn't bother me one bit. In fact, I loved it. Wifey. It had a nice ring to it. She was going to be my wife one day—future Mrs. Kavanagh, or maybe even Lynch-Kavanagh if that's what she preferred. Either way, she'd be my wife.

Me: We're playing Royce College today. We're just waiting for everyone to get on the bus before we head off. Didn't Shannon tell you?

Wifey <3: My sister hasn't had her phone since Tuesday. I thought Donegal wasn't until after Easter?

Me: Nah, we're playing in Dublin today. We have to win this one so we can go to Donegal.

Wifey <3: Shit.

I could sense something was bothering her, and my fingers hovered over the screen, ready to ask.

Me: What's up?

Wifey <3: This trip. How long will it last?

Me: At the latest, we'll be back by 10 pm. Why?

Wifey <3: If you see Shannon, tell her I've sorted everything and not to worry.

I was about to reply when a loud voice cut through the chatter on the bus, jolting me back to reality.

"Miss Lynch!" Mr. Mulcahy's voice boomed through the bus, instantly silencing everyone. Heads whipped around, eyes wide in surprise as they searched for the source of the commotion. "Sit down, will ya!"

I glanced up and spotted Shannon standing frozen, wide-eyed, staring at Coach like a deer caught in the headlights. Lizzie offered to switch seats with her, but Coach shot that idea down fast. My eyes drifted to the seat beside me, and before I could overthink it, I dropped the pile of gear bags on the floor, freeing up the window seat.