IMPORTANT!! For those of you who are reading this via notification, we have traveled back to act one because I may have accidentally missed this chapter while writing. I'm sorry. Please accept my apology. I didn't mean to hide this chapter from you, I've just been super tired lately.

IRIS
FEBRUARY 25TH, 2000

      "BECAUSE THE LAST TIME I MET UP WITH YOU, you told people about our private business." Aoife told her boyfriend, who was on the other side of the phone "I'm still mad at you. You broke my trust. And if I can't trust you, then I can't be with you—"

I wasn't sure what Paul was saying, but I could hear his muffled voice probably begging for forgiveness.

Turns out, the beginning of February, Aoife made the mistake of letting Paul The Prick put his hands in her knickers and then the next day he blabbed about it to all his friends. Telling them all that Aoife Molloy was so tight he could barely get a finger inside her.

When I overheard him saying that, I would've ripped his stupid ass fingers off his hands.

If Rex hadn't beat me to it.

"No." Aoife snapped. "It won't happen again, because your hand will never get that close to my knickers again, Paul Rice."

Mumbling. . .

"Oh my god." She grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Get a handle on yourself. We've only been going out for a few weeks."

There was a long pause before the sound of more mumbling filled my ear.

"Just a tad." Aoife said, grinning. "I love you." She whined in a fake voice. "You big sap. What if I was one of those girls who actually believe the crap boys tell them?"

More mumbling. . .

"Not so much as your pinkie finger will get anywhere near my knickers again."

Again, more mumbling. . .

I don't get why she's even bothering to hear him out. She should've dropped him the minute I told her what happened.

Not that she even believe me.

If Paul hadn't admitted it, she still probably wouldn't believe me.

"So, you want to make up for being a sleazebag to me by taking me to a sleazy underage disco where girls line the walls for boys to grope them?" Aoife rolled her eyes again. "Gee, that is so tempting, but no thanks."

More muffled mumbling. . .

"Yes." She confirmed. "Yes, I am."

He's still talking apparently. . .

"It was okay." She said, reaching up to thumb the shiny stud around her neck that Paul had bought her as a half-assed apology. "But buying me presents won't win me over, Paul."

Mumbling. . .

"Now off you go, I'm busy."

Mumbling. . .

"People watching."

More mumbling. . .

"My other boyfriend." Aoife laughed, dangling her legs from her perch on front garden wall in front of her house beside me. "Didn't I mention him before? He's very trustworthy."

Mumbling. . .

"It was a joke."

Mumbling. . .

"Nobody." She laughed. "Night, Paul."

Mumbling. . .but this time it was cut off by Aoife hanging up and sliding her phone back into her dressing gown pocket.

Thank God.

"You really shouldn't be accepting his apologies." I mumbled, knowing that I'm stepping into dangerous territory, but also not giving a damn. "He's an asshole."

Aoife groaned, rolling her eyes at me. Clearly she was annoyed we are having this conversation again, but—honestly—so was I.

"What are you two doing out here?" A little red head asked, stopping whatever argument was about to unfold between me and Aoife.

Hoisting her small frame onto Aoife's garden wall beside Aoife, she slipped her arm through Aoife's and rested her head on her shoulder. "I'm Katie." The red head introduced, holding her other hand out.

I gave her my best smile, accepting her hand and replying "Iris."

"It's freezing out here." Katie said with a small shiver.

"Yeah, I know." Aoife let out a heavy sigh and rested her cheek on the girls red curls. "I'm just people watching."

"You mean you're boy watching." The red head corrected with a smirk.

She wasn't wrong.

I turned my attention back to the commotion occurring across the road from our row of houses. It was half past eleven on Friday night and the Gardaí were making an arrest—which was nothing new for this area of town. Lately, they had been cracking down on underage drinking and had scored a coup for themselves in the form of a gang of teenage boys.

I knew them all.

Some were from my street, more were from my school, and then there was him.

"Hey, isn't that the lad who works with your dad?" Katie asked, her question aiming more towards Aoife, as we watched one of the male Gardaí pin Joey Lynch to the side of the paddy wagon.

Instead of keeping his mouth shut like the others, Joey laughed and taunted the Garda, who was roughly patting him down.

Dressed in his usual attire, an oversized navy hoodie that concealed his blond hair, he continued to talk back to the Garda, goading him into losing his cool.

"Joey Lynch." I replied with a heavy sigh at the same time Aoife said. "Yep. It sure is."

Snatching the cigarette that was balancing between Joey's lips, the Garda tossed it on the ground before stamping on it.

The move earned him a slew of verbal abuse from my friend.

"What an idiot." Aoife grumbled with a shake of her head.

I get it.

It seemed wrong to see the same boy who once played a game of princess and prince now pinned against a paddy wagon.

Joey is better than this.

I knew he was.

At least he used to be.

He may have looked like the boy I grew up with, but he sure as shit didn't act like him. Darren leaving without a word has clearly taken a toll on him.

I wish he would talk to me more. I might have been able to help him—stop him from going down this path. Maybe I still can.

"He's a walking red flag." Katie agreed, before adding, "Isn't he a little young to be hanging out with Shane Holland? Isn't Shane seventeen—"

"Shane's eighteen." I corrected, glaring at the biggest scumbag in Ballylaggin.

Shane was bad news, and everyone knew it. He was in sixth year at BCS and the worst kind of wrong to be knocking around with. It was common knowledge around here that he was a dealer, and while he might be small time, his brothers were
not. Apparently, the older Holland brothers were in deep with some of the big-time dealers from the city.

Joey was only in first year. If he was hanging around with Shane, then he was playing with fire.

It was a bad move.

I watched the Gardaí shove three of the older boys into the back of the paddy wagon and released a sigh of relief when they didn't take Joey—his young age no doubt the deciding factor.

"Why do you think he does it?" Aoife asked, verbalizing aloud the question I'd been asking myself since I first found out he was getting into stuff like this.

Tonight wasn't the first time I'd seen the boy get collared by the authorities. It happened frequently.

"Why do you think he self-destructs like that?"

"Who?" Katie asked. "Joey?"

"Yeah." Aoife replied, eyes trained on the Garda van as it drove past her house.

"Because he's a teenage boy?" Katie offered with a shrug.

"Yeah, but it has to be more than that." She replied.

I didn't bother glancing over at her and sparing her a reply. My gaze stayed locked on Joey, who was staring after the Garda van with a look of frustration etched on his face. "You just saw how he reacted with the Garda back there, Katie. It was almost as if he wanted them to take him away."

"What?" Her neighbor laughed. "That's crazy talk. Nobody wants to be taken away by the Gards."

I think he did, though.

"I don't know, Aoife." she said, worrying her lip. "He seems like kind of a bad guy to me."

I shook my head. "He's not a bad guy." Finally speaking up.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know him." Even though he seems to hate the fact that I do.

"How?"

"Because I grew up with him." I heard myself blurt out. "He used to be so much nicer. To me. To everyone. Joey lynch used to be nice—well, as nice as the average boy. He's just going through some things that he needs to sort out." Just give him some time to get his head back on straight.

"And?" Katie interjected with a teasing smile.

"And look at him." I threw a hand up and gestured toward him, hoping she would at least understand this part. "Take a good look."

"Yeah." she agreed quietly. "He's sort of beautiful."

"More than sort of." I corrected with a shiver. "But it's more than that." Chewing on my bottom lip, I tried to find the words to explain my feelings. "I've been in love with that boy since the first day I met him and he saved my bike from being left behind and trashed by my neighborhood bully."

"You know." Aoife sighed. "Your reasons for staying by that boy are starting to sound pretty repetitive."

I scoffed. "Yeah? Like your reasons to stay with Paul?"

There was no way I was gonna let her drag my friendship with Joey through the mud when she's staying by her boyfriend who just told half the school about fingering her.

Joey was not a topic she was allowed to judge me on.

Hell—she isn't even supposed to bring him up after our last fight.

"This is not about Paul." she added. "Seriously, Paul is nothing like Joey."

Yeah, thank God.

"You're right, Aoife. At least Joey isn't going around telling everyone about your private parts."

And just like that, his head turned in our direction, green eyes meeting mine. And just like every time I felt his eyes on me, my heart thundered violently in my chest.

I hope he didn't hear me.

That would be embarrassing.

He stood on the corner of the street, unmoving, eyes never leaving mine.

Nostrils flaring, he continued to stare at me boldly. With what I knew wasn't a cigarette now balancing between his lips, he tilted his head to one side, eyes glazed over but still sharp and full of mistrust. "You got a staring problem, Iris?"

I shrugged. "You know me."

His eyes narrowed. "Enjoying the show?"

"Eh. Kind of a shit show." I taunted. "But—to be fair—at least you looked good."

"What are you doing, Iris?" Katie whisper-hissed, her eyes practically popping out of her head. "Don't talk to him. I thought we established that he's bad news. . .Oh great, he's coming over."

I don't care what people think of him because no matter how much of an asshole he is, I can't help but love him.

With my stomach doing somersaults, I watched as Joey crossed the road, closing the space between us. His lips were puffy and swollen, just like they had always been. Those lips were almost too pretty to belong to a boy.

So perfect. . .

"You're out late." he said, coming to stand in front of me, completely ignoring the other two beside me. Because of my height advantage from sitting on the wall, he had to look up at me, and when he did I swear I felt the air whoosh from my lungs.

Not because he was insanely beautiful—something he very much was—but because the left side of his face was a dark shade of purple, with his left eye swollen almost entirely shut.

"Your face." Katie gasped, voicing my thoughts aloud. "What happened to you?" Her eyes drifted to his hand. "Oh my god, are you smoking a—"

"I asked too many questions." he interrupted, giving my new friend a menacingly cold glare. "Do you do that, too?"

"No." she croaked out. "It's just that the Gards are around and I don't want to be seen with. . .drugs."

"Drugs?" Joey stared at her like she had two heads. "It's a joint, not a line. Relax, will ya?"

"Hey." I narrowed my eyes in warning. "Don't be a dick."

"I'm going to go inside now." Katie whispered, clearly unnerved by his words as she hopped down and practically legged it toward her front door. "Night, Aoife. Night, Iris."

"Yeah." Aoife hopped down from the wall, sending me a sharp glare, probably for my earlier comment that I was most likely gonna be forced to apologize for later. "I'm gonna leave you two alone."

I wanted to snap at her and shout a thousand insults, but I didn't.

Because if I started fighting with her, Joey would likely disappear.

A few seconds later I heard her front door slam shut.

"What's going on between you two?" Joey asked, stealing back my attention.

"What do you mean."

He shrugged noncommittally. "I've seen that look many times, Iris. You wanted to say something—likely something mean."

"Right." I shot back, furrowing my eyebrows "because It's usually aimed at you."

A faint trace of a smile teased his lips and I was immediately distracted by the discoloration in his face.

"Oh, Joey." I sighed, bringing my hand up to the side of his face, my thumb running over the small cut on his bottom lip.

He pulled his head back, "Don't, Iris." He mumbled, pushing my hand away.

"Sorry." I said, though I'm not sure he heard me because of how quiet I had been when I said it.

"Don't you have better things to do than stalk me?" He asked. Taking one final drag from his smoke, he exhaled a cloudy puff of sickly sweet-smelling smoke before tossing the butt away.

I shrugged "not really."

"Go hang out with your best friend." Shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket, he retreated a few steps.

I hopped off of the wall, landing where he had been moments ago. "I am."

I took him a second to realize what I was saying. Once he did a small smirk mad its way onto his lips. "I'm not your best friend, Iris."

I stepped towards him, crossing my arms across my chest. "I wasn't aware you had a say in who I chose as my best friend."

"You don't want me to be your best friend."

"I'm pretty sure I do."

"Trust me, you don't."

"I trust you, but you're still wrong."

"Iris."

"Joseph."

Joey sighed, clearly understanding that he wasn't getting anywhere in this argument—if it was even an argument. "Can you ask Aoife not to tell her father about tonight."

"Yes." I agreed, faster than I'm willing to admit.

"Ok." He began to turn around and walk away, but I stopped him. Grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards me. "What the hell, Iris." He said, taking a step back so that we were no longer chest-to-chest.

"Don't leave." I found myself saying, surprised that he hasn't dropped my hand. Though it was probably because he hadn't noticed it yet.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to."

A look of guilt washed through his eyes before it was replaced by anger—likely fake—and he stepped towards me. If he was expecting me to step back he was truly mistaken. So with his chest pressed to mine—once again, Joey said "You should probably go back inside, Iris. You're starting to sound a little desperate."

Doesn't he get it?

I am.

I need him to stay.

I knew he meant it in an insulting way, but I wasn't gonna give him the satisfaction of seeing me run. "I am." I mumbled, looking up into his angry, wounded, beautiful, green eyes. "I don't want you to go."

I lifted my hands up, dropping his hand in the process—even though a part of me was worried he would push me away again—and I lightly slid my fingers across the bruised skin around his eye.

How did he still look so beautiful?

"If you go—" I paused and lowered my voice to a whisper. "If you go, you won't come back." to me.

For some reason not flicking my hand away like I had expected him to, Joey tilted his head slightly. "You shouldn't want me to."

But I do.

I really really do.

"Why?" My fingers trailed back down his face until they were sliding across the cut on his lip.

He didn't get to answer because Aoife's dad had swung open the door. "Iris?" He called from the front doorway. "What are you doing outside at this time of night? The Gards are crawling all over the terrace."

"Jesus." Jerking away from my body like I had scalded him, Joey shoved his hands into his pocket and muttered a string of curse words under his breath as he shook his head and blew out a ragged breath.

Aoife's father's confused gaze flicked to Joey, and he blinked for a moment before a look of resignation settled on his face. "Joey." he acknowledged with a heavy sigh. "I hope you weren't in that crowd I saw the Gards taking away. You're a good lad, and you know I'm fond of ya, but those lads are bad news. I'm not comfortable having someone who knocks around with that kind—"

"He wasn't with them." I answered before Joey could. "He was—uhh—dropping Katie home." I quickly added, lying straight through my teeth. "They went to the cinema together. Isn't that right, Joe?"

"Uh, yeah." Joey nodded slowly, his green eyes wary and locked on mine. "That's right."

"Yourself and young Katie?" Mr. Molloy frowned at Joey. "You kept that one quiet."

Joey shrugged. "It's, ah, early days."

"Ah, mighty stuff. Good lad yourself." Mr. Molloy called back with a cheerful grin before turning around to go back into the house. "Iris, don't be long outside, please. Your ma would probably kill me if she found out I let you out here this late."

"Okay, Mr. Molloy, I'll be two minutes." I called back, my voice a lot softer as I talked to the man than it had been when I talked to his daughter earlier.

The moment the door was closed, Joey spoke "You lied for me." Joey's tone was cold now and full of unspoken accusations. "You covered for me."

"Yeah." I shrugged, looking at the blond who had manage to gain a few feet between us. "Wouldn't be the first time, huh?"

"Why?" His green eyes were laced with a mixture of heat, annoyance, and reluctant curiosity. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing." My gaze locked on the cut on his bottom lip. "Why do you think I want something from you?"

He didn't answer me. He just stared at me with his eyes narrowed and that annoyingly cute wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"We are friends, Joey. Friends help each other out." I shoved my freezing hands in the small pockets on my jeans.

"We aren't friends, Iris." The word 'friends' has seemed to become some swear word to Joey within this past year.

I felt a small smile form on my lips "We are. We never won't be." I managed to force myself into taking a step forwards "You can try to push me away, Joey Lynch, but I will win this. Because I don't care what you say to me, nothing will change my mind."

"Why can't you just let me go." He snapped, clearly angry. "Just let me go and live your life."

"I already told you why." I said, ignoring the way my heart practically leapt out of my chest when he stepped towards me. "I guess you're the one not listening this time."

"Stop it, Iris."

God I loved when he says my name. "I won't let you push me away."

He stepped towards me again, lifting a hand up to my chin and tilting my head so that I had to look at him.

I knew he was trying to intimidate me, but It didn't work. Because not a bone in my body could ever be scared of this boy.

"Listen to me." His voice was cold and I knew he was about to say something mean, but I don't think I cared because I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that his hand was on my face. "We are not friends, we have never been friend, and we will never be friends. I don't like you, I have never liked you, and I never will like you. Now leave me alone."

He really doesn't want me to be friends with him.

It's kind of embarrassing how desperate he is to push me away.

A smile made its way onto my face. "Careful Joe." I mused, "you're starting to sound desperate." I threw his words right back in his face.

Though we did use them in different context, it still felt wonderful.

"Not desperate." He shook his head. "Just honest."

I pulled my hands out of my pockets and placed them on either side of his face. He attempted to pull away, but I just pulled him back till we were nose-to-nose. "You're a really bad liar." I mumbled, ignoring the way my heart skipped a beat because of the way our noses brushed.

My eyes trailed his face, taking in all the details I haven't seen in ages.

I felt bad for grabbing his face so roughly whilst it was covered in bruises, but he wasn't listening to me, so I did the only thing I could think of.

When my eyes found his again, I wasn't sure if he was happy, sad, angry, annoyed, or embarrassed, but I could tell that he did not want to be this close.

So I let go.

"You're lucky you're pretty." I grumbled.

"I'm lucky I'm pretty?" He repeated my words, his face still right in front of mine.

I nodded "that's what I said."

"Right." He hummed, his eyes dropping maybe an inch for barely a second before they snapped back to my eyes.

With a sudden burst of courage, I pushed my face even closer to his. "I know you like me."

"Why do you think I like you."

"Because. . ." I sighed, taking a deep breath. "You hit Paul."

"I hit Paul all the time."

"But you hit him for me."

I could be wrong. I could just be grasping at straws and he did actually just hit Paul because he didn't like him.

But it just seemed strange that he happened to hit Paul the same day Paul called me a slut for the first time.

Shaking his head he said "I don't know what you're talking about."

I felt his breath on my lips and it sent a jolt of electricity to rock through my body, predominantly the parts of my body south of my belly button

"He called me a slut." I stated, ignoring the feelings swirling around my body. "So you punched him."

"That's not what happened." He grumbled.

But now I knew he was lying.

He wouldn't be getting mad if I was actually wrong. If I was wrong he probably would have laughed in my face.

"Then what happened." I blinked. The urge to yell at him for lying to me again vanishing in the breeze.

Finally dropping his hand from my chin, Joey stepped back. "That's none of your business."

Ignoring how cold I felt without him right in front of me, I said "okay." I nodded, completely unconvinced.

"I'm serious. I didn't hit him for you."

"Right." I nodded, feeding into his lie. "You hit him for Rex. Because if you didn't he was gonna."

Joey let out a loud sigh, his head falling as he grumbled "whatever floats your boat, Iris." Then he was stepping away from me.

Leaving, I realized.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Think of something Iris.

Make him stop.

"Joey." Oh God, he's right. I am desperate.

Maybe twenty feet away from me now, Joey paused and turned back. "What."

I couldn't think of anything.

Dammit.

Releasing a deep breath, I let my head fall. "Just—" I don't know if I was loud enough for him to hear me. "I'll see you around, right?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he walked away.

And he was gone, again.

AUTHOR TALKS!!
If you want to find where we left off before this chapter the last update before this was chapter nine — walk me home. Because chances are I'm gonna Publish another chapter or two later.

The amount of parallels in this chapter and sweet oblivion chapter twenty six is crazy.