Binding 13

"I'm too sore," I grumbled.

"Of course you're sore," he shot back. "You're not giving your body time to repair itself, you never bloody rest, and you haven't had pussy in months." Winking, he added, "It's time to take your balls off ice and put your shifting jacket on."

"My shifting jacket?" A smile cracked through my bad mood. "What are we, thirteen again and heading to the underage disco?"

"I'm wearing my shifting t-shirt," he replied proudly, flexing his biceps for em. "It has a one-hundred percent success rate."

I cocked a brow. "Probably because the tag on the back of it says it's for ages 12-13."

"Here now." Gibsie gri

"Your spectacular bullshit more like."

Shaking off his hand when we reached the back door, I pushed it open and stepped aside for him to pass and then headed for my favorite part of my house; the fridge.

"That's the plan," Gibsie stated. Traipsing through my kitchen like it was his own – and it might as well have been for the amount of time he spent here – he strolled over to the cupboards and grabbed a slice pan and a knife from the drawer before pulling a stool out from the center island and sinking down. "And you are not giving me any bullshit excuse tonight."

"Who's going?"

"Hughie and Katie are meeting us below –" He paused and then said, "And Pierce and Feely might show their faces."

"Are any of the girls from school going?"

"Katie," Gibsie shot back in a duh tone of voice.

"Aside from Katie," I snapped.

Katie was a given.

Hughie rarely left the girl's side.

"No." Gibsie frowned at me. "Why would they be?"

I leveled him with a WTF expression. "Because they always fucking show up."

"Does it matter if they show up?"

"I'm not in the mood to be dealing with them."

"You mean you're not in the mood to be dealing with the crazy one," Gibsie corrected with a grimace.

"No, I'm not," I replied, rummaging in the fridge. "I'm not dealing with her this weekend." With my arms laden down with sandwich supplies, I walked over to the island and tossed them down on the black marble countertop. "I need a break, Gibs."

Gibsie shook his head and reached for the bread.

"What happened?" Snatching up a knife and the packet of cooked ham, he asked, "Is she contacting you again?"

"When isn’t she contacting me?" I bit out as I slowly chopped a tomato. "It's a constant stream of texts and phone calls."

All the damn time.

I stopped reading Bella's messages weeks ago, but it still drove me batshit whenever my phone lit up because nine times out of ten, it was her on the other line.

"You must be fucking amazing in bed," Gibsie mused. "If she's hunting you down like this."

"Not the point, Gibs," I growled. "No means no, lad."

"You can change your number," he offered.

"What's the point?" I grumbled. "She'll just find a way to get my new one."

"I know I'm always saying it, but I really have to say it one more time, lad." Slathering two slices of bread with butter, Gibsie layered on cheese, dumped half a dozen slices of meat on top, and then proceeded to fold his sandwich in half and stuff it in his mouth before continuing, "I do not know how you ever put your dick inside that girl."

"I lost my bleeding mind," I bit out, focusing way too hard on spreading the butter evenly on my slice. "That's how."

"You can say that again," Gibsie shot back, making himself another sandwich. "You were blinded by big tits," he added between huge mouthfuls of ham and cheese. "And posh pussy."

"Yeah." Tossing the knife down on the counter, I layered my bread evenly with slices of tomato and then added some fresh chicken pieces before folding it over. "Well, I'm not blinded anymore." Picking up my sandwich, I took a huge bite, chewing and swallowing before adding, "I'm seeing everything clearly now."

"You need to get yourself a girlfriend, lad," Gibsie declared. "It's the only way you're going to shake Bella off."

"I don’t want to get a girlfriend," I bit out. "I am too fucking busy for a girlfriend, Gibsie. You know this."

"Even Little Sha

My heart leapt in my chest at the sound of her name.

Christ…

"What did I tell you about her?" I snapped, tossing the remainder of my sandwich on my plate, appetite gone. "What in the bleeding hell have I been saying to you for the last two months?"

"It's not what you're saying," he replied with a snicker. "It's how you're acting."

"I am not going there," I growled. "I've said it a hundred fucking times."

"And you can say it a hundred more," Gibsie shot back with a laugh. "And I still won't believe you."

Jesus Christ.

"You like the girl," he continued to taunt. "Maybe you even loooooooovv–"

"If I agree to go to Biddies, will you stop talking about it?" I asked, desperate to stop him before he went into full-fledged Gibsie-mode and drove me insane. "Will you let this drop?"

My best friend nodded eagerly. "Absolutely."

"Fine." I sighed in defeat and moved for the door. "I'll grab a shower."

"Good man," Gibsie called after me. "I'll phone for a taxi for us."

I swung back to face him. "I can drive us–"

"No, you can't," Gibsie interrupted, holding his phone to his ear. "We're going on the lash. Both of us."

Shoulders sagging, I turned and made my way to my room.

Fucking Gibsie.