Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

WHIPLASH

TARA

"Girl, I miss wearing those skirts."

I laughed softly, glancing at myself in the bathroom mirror while applying a final coat of lipstick. The flick of the bright red against my lips felt perfect for tonight. "Don't worry, Aoif," I said, spritzing a bit of perfume on my neck and wrists, the light floral scent filling the small bathroom. "You'll be back to your sexy self in no time."

With one last look, I flicked off the bathroom light and stepped into the guest room, which Darragh insisted on calling my room every time we crashed here. The girls were sprawled all over, comfortably tangled in blankets and each other's company. Aoife, Casey, Erin, and Katie had insisted on coming over to help me get ready for my date with Jonathan. I had argued it wasn't necessary, but they wouldn't hear of it. After all, it was my first real date with a boy, and according to them, this was a monumental event deserving of a full-scale, girls-only preparation ritual.

"How do I look?" I asked, doing a small twirl. The black leather skirt hugged my hips perfectly, and the sequined tank top sparkled just right in the soft light.

Erin glanced up first, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Your arse looks amazing," she winked, returning to the toenail she was painting with a steady hand. "Good shout wearing a skirt—easy access."

Katie wrinkled her nose in disgust and shot her a look. "God, Erin, can you not? You're worse than a fella sometimes."

"Those legs, though," Casey chimed in, eyes gleaming as she looked me up and down. "Could give Sexy Legs herself a run for her money."

I glanced down at my black boots, the only sensible option since we were heading to the beach. Heels and sand? A disaster waiting to happen. I could already imagine Fintan's look of despair if I ended up spraining an ankle.

"Ditch the leather jacket."

I blinked at her, incredulous. "Are you mental? It's Baltic out there, Aoife!" Katie shot me a look, her eyes wide with horror. "Do you want her to catch her death?"

"No, babes," Aoife shook her head, gesturing towards me. "Listen. Mr. Rugby is gonna be wearing something warm if he's got half a brain, yeah? At some point, you'll be fucking freezing your arse off," she added with a knowing look, "and even if you're not, you fake it." She turned to Katie, her voice brimming with confidence. "Boys love seeing us in their clothes. It gets them all possessive—like, this one's mine. Way hotter than lingerie, trust me."

She wasn't wrong there. Jonathan practically melted every time I wore one of his rugby jerseys, which usually led to hands roaming and lips crashing into mine until we were lost in each other, completely forgetting whatever plans we'd made.

"Is that how ya ended up pregnant?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at her. "Threw on my brother's hurling shirt, hopped on his dick, and got yourself knocked up?"

Aoife let out a throaty giggle. "There was fuck-all clothing involved and a bottle of posh champers," she confessed with a wicked grin. "Your brother is a beast in bed."

"Aoife Christina Molloy!" Katie practically shrieked, slamming the magazine shut with a loud snap, her face turning a bright shade of red.

"What? I'm only telling the truth."

"Tara's a beast in bed, too," Erin sighed dreamily, glancing at me with an exaggerated pout. I shot her a wide-eyed look, praying she wasn't about to say what I thought she was.

"You ever thought about—"

"Nope," I cut her off swiftly, sensing where this conversation was headed. "Don't even go there, Erin. I love you, I love Darragh, but there's no way in hell we're having a threesome."