Binding 13

When I came up empty, Joey heaved an impatient sigh.

"He's a big fucking deal on the rugby circuit. Jesus, you only have to turn on a computer or crack open the papers to read all about him," he continued to say. "He was recruited into the rugby academy when he was like fourteen or some insanely young age like that."

"That's the institute place?" I shifted, leaning over to the edge of the bed to take his measure. "Is that a big deal or something?"

"It's a big fucking deal, Shan," Joey confirmed. "You have to be hand-picked by top Irish rugby scouts to get trials. Money and pull have no factor. Selection is based purely on talent and potential. They teach them everything they need to know about a professional career in rugby, and have the best coaches, physios, nutritionists, and trainers in the country watching over them. They run these insane conditioning programs and camps for their players, and it's the best place to meet potential scouts. It’s like this school of excellence for upcoming professional rugby players – except it's not a school. It's a state of the art sports facility in the city. Actually, it's more like a puppy farm where they produce thoroughbred, high caliber, rugby players instead of dogs."

"Ew." I scrunched my nose up. "Disgusting analogy, Joe."

"That’s what it's like," Joey chuckled. "Only the most promising teenagers in the country get a chance to work with The Academy, and even at that, it's brutal. You have to be made of something fucking special to make it through the trials and get a season with them, never mind getting re-selected. Personally, I can respect the hell out of anyone with that kind of self-discipline. He has to have some huge fucking work ethic to perform at that level in his sport."

"So, he's good?"

"He's better than good, Shan," my brother corrected. "I've seen a few of Kavanagh's games with the u18's squad that were aired on the telly over the summer campaign and I'm telling you now, he's like a loaded gun on the pitch. Give him a slither of opportunity and he'll expose the defense and hit the fucking target every time. Shit, the guy's only seventeen and this is his second season with the Irish under 18 youth team – and he'll move right on up to the under 20's once he turns eighteen. After that, it'll be the senior team."

So, Joh

"I didn’t know any of this," I mumbled, feeling like an idiot.

Why didn’t anyone mention this?

All the girls said at school was that he was amazing at rugby and was captain for the school team.

I never even heard of this academy thingy.

"You're blushing," Joey stated, sounding amused.

It was a completely accurate assessment, one I furtively denied. "I am not."

He snorted. "Yeah, you fucking are."”

"It's too dark to see that, so how do you even know that I'm blushing?"

Joey laughed softly. "So, you admit it?"

"I do not." I bit back a curse. "And I am not."

He scoffed. "Don’t give me that shit."

"What shit?"

"You let him drop you home."

I gaped. "Yeah. So?"

"You don’t even get in the car with Podge, and he's been my best friend since nappies," Joey challenged. "I've never seen or heard about you being friends with fellas."

"That's because I don’t have any friends," I growled. "Or at least I didn’t."

"So, you're friends with him?"

"No, I'm not friends with him," I ground out. "I missed my bus. He overheard me talking to you on the phone and offered to give me a spin home. You know this."

"Yeah, well, word to the wise," he replied breezily. "Don’t get your hopes up with him."

"My hopes?"

"Yeah," Joey yawned lazily. "It won't end well."

"What are you – why would I get my hopes up?" I shot back, flustered. "And hopes for what?"

"Whatever shit teenage girls get their hopes up on," Joey countered, yawning again. "At the risk of sounding like an overprotective brother: he's too old and way too fucking experienced for you."

"I'm not getting my hopes up on anyone," I denied heatedly before quickly adding, "Why are you even telling me all of this?"

"I'm not thick, Shan," Joey replied. "I'm well aware of the way young ones get all hung up and go all fangirly on fellas in his position." He shifted around on his makeshift bed, stretching out. "All I'm saying is, don’t read into him taking a picture with you or giving you a lift home tonight. He more than likely does that with a lot of girls."

"I wasn’t!" I snapped. "I didn’t even know about his position until you just told me." I followed up with, "And I'm well aware that him offering me a lift was an attempt to make amends for the concussion."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

"Are you sure you know that's all?"

I balked with indignance. "Yes, Joey."

"Well, good," he sighed. "Because from what I've read in the papers, he'll be out of here after the leaving cert, so pining after him would be a bad idea. Clubs are already crying out for him – even in the southern hemisphere. It's only a matter of time before he's contracted out to the highest bidder."

"So?" My tone was defensive. "Why would I care? I don’t even like rugby!"

"Calm your tits, Sha

"Well, it's not necessary," I grumbled, face burning. "And for your information, he's actually not that great," I decided to throw out there in a distaining tone.

My earlier altercation with Joh

"He's really moody and he drives like maniac – and his car is a disgrace it's so filthy."

"What does he drive?"

"An Audi A3." I grimaced before reluctantly admitting, "It's so sweet."

"Of course, he does. They practically toss out top of the range cars to their players." Joey blew out a breath and sounded a little fan-girly when he said, "Lucky bastard."