Joey Lynch was the hothead hurler for Tommen College. The girls all loved him and the guys were all jealous of him. With blond curls, green eyes and the sexiest grin ever, he could and got anyone he wanted.

You knew all about the hotheaded hurler. More disturbingly, you knew who his father was. His bad temper, armed with that tidbit homicidal information should’ve been enough to make you turn in your heels and run in the opposite way of this boy. Not trying to save him from himself.

Storming through the hallway and out the entrance of the school once you heard about Joey with Shane Holland again.

“Hey!” You screamed, making a beeline for the Black Honda parked in the further space in the car park.

Your whoever-the-hell-he-was, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the car full of much older boys, turned to look the windscreen, with a look of confusion etched on his face. The moment his eyes landed on you, the confusion settled on anger.

“I said get out of the car, asshole!” You demanded, slamming your hands on the bonnet of the car. “Now!”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joey snarled, throwing the car door open and climbing out.

“Jesus Christ, Molloy!” Rounding the bonnet, Joey quickly slid between you and the car. “What are you thinking?”

“What am I thinking?” Losing your cool, you shoved Joey out the way, and kicked the number plate of Shane’s car.

“Hey!” Shane roared, rolling down his tinted window. “Get a handle on your bitch, Lynchy, or I will.”

“Watch your mouth.” Joey warned before he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, dragging you away.

“No!” Wrestling away from his hold, you spun around to face him. “You said you’d try, Joey! You promised you wouldn’t—“

“And I haven’t!” Joey snapped. “Fuck, do you have a death wish?”

Reckless and wild, you broke free of his hold, knotted his jumper in your fists and dragged his mouth to yours, kissing him hard and rough.

Pulling back, you hissed. “You need to walk away. With me.”

“Molloy.”