SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Progress and provocation

Johnny's Point of View

Five days.
Five days of pretending.
Five days of watching Maeve Connor walk through school like a ghost in someone else's skin – sharp around the edges, quiet in the corners, avoiding me like it was her job.

Pushing her? That never worked.

Giving her space? That hurt worse.

I didn't stop looking though.
I still made sure there was a cup of tea at her desk every morning.
Still found her at lunch, still tried to drag her into a conversation.
And every time she bolted, it left this hollow, stupid ache in my chest.

And now, sitting on a bus about to drive halfway to fucking Donegal for a rugby match against Royce, I'd just watched her almost have a full-blown panic attack the second she saw Shannon Lynch sitting in one of the front seats.
Her cousin's face pale as anything, eyes wide as she clutched Claire Biggs' sleeve.

I watched Maeve's shoulders lock up, saw the way she swallowed hard and forced herself to keep it together.

It made my stomach twist.

I kept my gaze on her as she spoke to Shannon, quietly, head tilted, one hand on her cousin's arm. Calming her down in that way she always did – like it wasn't the first time she had to talk someone off a ledge.

Then Maeve turned, scanning the bus for a seat.
And by some brilliant stroke of cosmic luck, or just because the world wanted to see how much restraint I actually had left, there was one empty seat.

Next to me.

I didn't say anything.
Just raised an eyebrow and smirked, tapping the lid of the travel cup sitting on the seat beside me.

It was hers.

She hesitated.
Rolled her eyes like I was being a dick.
But she sat.

Didn't look at me at first.
Didn't even glance my way.
But her hand wrapped around the cup, fingers curling tight.
Progress.

I waited until the bus started moving, until I could feel the distance between us shrink, not just in inches but in the way she stopped fidgeting.
She took a slow sip of the tea and let out a sigh so soft I almost missed it.

And then, because I was done with the bullshit silence, I spoke.

"You alright?"

She exhaled through her nose. "Fine."

"That was the most unconvincing fine I've ever heard."

She stared out the window. "I need a favour."

I sat up a little straighter. "Name it."

"Shannon needs a ride back to Cork after the game."

That made me frown. "What? Why?"

Maeve's jaw worked. "My aunt and uncle. They're strict about this stuff. She's not supposed to be out overnight, especially not on a trip like this. She's freaking out."

The way she said it – like she already expected me to say no, like it was too much to ask – made my stomach twist.

I nodded. "I can probably sort that."

That got her attention. She finally looked at me, brows knitting. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "I'll see if one of the lads' parents is coming up or heading back. If not, I'll figure something else out."

I watched her shoulders ease, just a little.
The tight line of her mouth softened.
And I hated how good it felt to be the one doing that for her.

"Thanks." she muttered.

"Anytime."

We lapsed back into silence, until Pierce O'Neill opened his mouth.

The prick was sitting a row behind us, already mouthing off since we left school.
And when Maeve leaned forward to grab her bag, he saw his chance.

"Careful, Connor. Don't want you flashing the whole bus like the desperate little tramp you are."

I felt the blood drain from my face before it rushed right back, my jaw clenching so hard it ached.

But before I could even turn around, Maeve did.

She twisted in her seat to face him, her expression cold, sharp, and lethal. "I get that your tiny dick makes you desperate for attention, Pierce." She said, voice ice-cold. "But maybe try keeping your mouth shut for once. I'm sure Lizzie's getting tired of pretending you're interesting."

Lizzie – sitting right next to him – went bright red and whipped her head around to glare at him.

The entire bus went dead silent.

Pierce's smirk faltered. He opened his mouth to come back with something, but I shot him a look.
A long, cold stare.
One that said, say one more fucking word and see what happens.

He shut his mouth.

Smart.

I leaned in close to Maeve, my voice low and even. "Ignore him."

"I wasn't planning on crying about it." She muttered, taking another sip of her tea like nothing happened.

I bit back a grin.
I was already deciding how many tackles I could legally land on O'Neill during training next week.

And maybe one or two that weren't.
Because if he ever talked to her like that again, there wouldn't be a bus big enough to put between us.

And Maeve?
Yeah, she was still running.
But for the first time in five days, she was sitting next to me.

And I'd take that.

For now.