Binding 13

I don’t like being ignored.

Everyone's talking about you, you know.

Saying your performance on the pitch is going to crap.

It made the papers.

They're saying you're losing you're touch.

I agree.

You are being a useless dick and you have a useless dick.

I know there's nothing wrong with you.

You're just trying to get out of taking me to the awards gala at the end of the month.

Why don’t you ever take me to those things?

I never ask you for ANYTHING.

If you don’t start appreciating me, I know plenty of lads who will…

I expelled a heavy breath and quickly read each message.

Yeah, this was getting out of hand.

I could feel the noose tightening around my neck.

I tapped out a quick reply saying 'Do whatever you want. I'm not your keeper' before turning my phone off and heading back to the school, stopping at the office.

"Joh

Our school secretary was a low-sized woman in her late twenties, with peroxide blonde hair, a penchant for teenage boys, and a serious weakness for rugby players.

Her blue eyes were lined with way too much black eyeliner and thick, mushy mascara that blended well with the mountain of foundation caked on her face, and blood red lips.

She wasn’t an unattractive woman.

She had a nice shape and a fantastic ass.

But she was a case of mutton dressed as lamb.

Despite her cougar attempts and blatant inappropriateness, I was oddly fond of the woman. She helped me out on more than one occasion down through the years, signing me out of classes, covering my absenteeism, burying misdemeanors and all types of incriminating shite that would reflect badly on me.

Back in third year, when I came home from training camp, I'd dropped an Ireland jersey with most of the team's signatures in to her.

It was a last-minute display of appreciation on my part, knowing that she'd gone to a great deal of trouble to get the Board of Education to waver a compulsory oral junior cert exam I'd missed while away.

I had the jersey in my gear bag and just gave it to her, feeling like I needed to compensate the woman for her efforts.

After that, she was my biggest champion, doing countless, and often morally questionable, favors for me.

And I, in turn, snagged her tickets to games whenever I could.

We had a good arrangement.

"I'm here to see you, Dee," I shot back with a flirty wink. Fighting down the urge to run for the hills from the school cougar, I sauntered over to the counter that separated her office from the rest of reception and gri

"I'm always willing to help my favorite all-star," she purred. "With anything."

"Appreciate it," I replied, repressing the urge to shudder when she reached over the counter and stroked her inch long, flaming red fingernails across my knuckles. "Do you have an envelope?"

"An envelope?" Her drawn-on brows shot up in surprise. "Oh," she muttered, looking a little forlorn.

Reaching behind the desk, she rummaged around before slapping a plain brown envelope on the counter.

Pulling out my wallet, I snagged two €50 notes and stuffed them inside.

"Do you have a pen?" I asked.

With a little huff, she handed me one.

"You're a lifesaver," I mumbled as I quickly scrawled a note on the envelope before placing the pen on the counter.

"Is that all?"

"Actually no, it's not."

Resting my elbows on the counter, I fingered the envelope between my hands and smiled down at her.

Here it goes…

"I'm looking for some information on a student."

Dee frowned. "Information on a student?"

"Yeah." I nodded, widening my smile. "Sha

Who had I been fooling with distracting myself with reality tv?

I was an obsessive bastard by nature, with a one-track mind that was currently – and solely – programmed on her.

I had to know more.

I needed more.

I wasn’t thick enough to think this didn’t matter.

Or that my reaction to McGarry in the changing rooms earlier didn’t matter.

It mattered that she was able to do this to me.

It mattered that, hours later, I was still thinking about her, wondering about her, and inevitably worrying about her.

It mattered that she mattered when no one ever mattered to me before.

Fuck, now I was confused about all the matters.

"Oh, Joh

"Come on, Dee," I purred, smothering my outrage with what I hoped was charm. "You know me. I would never intentionally hurt a girl."

"Of course you wouldn’t," she breathed, blinking up at me. "You're a good boy."

"And you're very good to me." Leaning closer, I covered her hand with mine, and whispered, "So, all I need you to do is tell me what you know about her – or better yet, let me see her file."

"No way, Joh

"You think I'd get you into trouble, Dee?" I coaxed with a small shake of my head. "It can be our little secret." God, I was a complete fucktard, playing on this poor woman's emotions.

But I wanted that file, dammit.

I had a burning curiosity to find out about Sha

Mr. Twomey's words had planted the seed inside my head and I was dying to find out.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I can't help you this time," Dee replied, lips pursed. "I need this job."

Frustrated, I shook my head and wrestled my temper into touch before trying again, "Can you at least give me her locker number?"

Dee's eyes narrowed. "Why do you need that?"

"I just do," I shot back, tone a little harder now.

I was pissed off.

I wasn’t used to being told no.

When I asked for something, I usually got it.

It was a shitty way to be, but that's how life went for me.

"I already told you," she retorted. "Mr. Twomey said you're not supposed to go near her –"

"It's her locker number, Dee, not her fucking home address," I snapped, irritation growing. "You'd swear I was a fucking murderer or something – the way you're all acting."

With a heavy sigh, Dee nodded dejectedly and walked over to the filing cabinet. "Alright."

"Thank you," I replied, tone heavy with sarcasm.

"But you didn’t get this off me," she grumbled, rummaging through each drawer until she found the desired folder.

"Fine."

"I'm serious, Joh

"Neither do I."

Flicking the folder open, she quickly sca