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DIBS, HE’S MINE

Lizzie

JUNE 19, 2003

F OR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER , I HAD MADE A GENUINE EFFORT WITH MY APPEAR ance. I figured I owed it to my boyfriend for suffering through countless months of feral-Liz. He deserved girlie-Liz for at least one night.

Dolled up to the nines in a skintight, lemon, mesh-lace boob-tube dress that left little to the imagination, I found myself queuing up outside the rugby clubhouse. Donning a full face of makeup—courtesy of Claire—and with my hair falling to the middle of my back in loose hanging curls, I consoled myself with the knowledge that my feet would be comfortable even if the rest of me wasn’t . My faithful high-tops, my one nonnegotiable, were securely on my feet.

Ballylaggin RFC was the venue for tonight’s disco. The event was being fully funded by both our school and the rugby club, offering an open bar of nonalcoholic refreshments and a line of security to keep order.

I knew BCS had a separate disco happening across town at the local GAA pavilion, but we didn’t go there. Warned by our teachers and parents to steer clear of “those kinds of boys,” we were segregated to be with the boys we went to school with. The good boys, the promising ones, with fat wallets and even fatter egos.

It was a fucking joke.

I wasn’t sure how I had managed to drag myself out of bed this morning, let alone had the strength to sit through a four-hour pampering session with Claire, but as we stood here now, surrounded by hundreds of other teenage girls, I had to admit, we looked fierce.

“I can’t wait to get inside,” Claire squealed, bouncing around in excitement in her pink leather dress that concealed just enough of her body to stop her brother from having a conniption fit when he arrived. “I’m so excited!”

“Yeah, Claire, I can tell.”

“Do you think the boys will be here soon?”

“Who knows?” I replied with a shrug. “They’ve been drinking all evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re passed out in a bush somewhere.”

“Well, Gerard will definitely be here,” she replied confidently. “He promised me the first dance.”

Holding back for the sake of the night that was in it, I swallowed down my retort and my pain, and forced a small smile. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m scoring with Danny Callaghan tonight,” Shelly, one of the girls from our year, declared. “He texted me last night.” Shimmying toward us in skyscraper heels, a black rara skirt, and a pink halter neck, Shelly grinned like the cat that got the cream. “He’s so fine, girls.”

“Ew,” Claire said quietly, scrunching her nose up, while I, not so quietly, fake heaved at the thought.

“I think Robbie Mac wants to score with me,” Helen, another girl in our year and Shelly’s faithful sidekick, said, sidling up to her bestie. “He texted me an hour ago.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Claire warned. “Those boys are on the rugby team with Hughie, and they’re total players.”

“We know,” they both cackled in unison.

“Ew.”

“Oh my God, that’s them!” Shelly shrieked, elbowing Helen while gesturing to the group of teenage boys strolling up the pathway of the club grounds.

Swinging around, I studied the dozen or more giant-looking boys and quickly homed in on the one that belonged to me . As soon as I locked eyes on Hugh, laughing and messing around with his friends, it felt like my entire body had caught on fire. Clad in jeans and a tight, fitted shirt, with his hair styled in his usual sexily tousled way, my boyfriend looked fucking edible.

“How is it that boys only need to throw on a shirt and jeans and gel their hair to look so dreamy?” Helen groaned, speaking my thoughts aloud. “It’s not fair.”

“Okay, now I’m scared,” Shelly chimed in, looking nervous.

“You don’t have to kiss anyone,” Claire reminded her. “I’m not.” Smiling, she added, “I came to dance.”

“Dammit,” one of the third-year girl’s standing in front of us in the line complained. “Johnny Kavanagh isn’t with them.”

“Why are you so surprised?” said another girl. “He never comes to these things.”

“Well, I don’t know about Captain Fantastic coming, but his sexy sidekick will be coming for me later tonight,” laughed another.

“Gibsie?” the first one exclaimed.

“Yes, Gibsie,” the dark-haired girl confirmed. “Have you seen that boy without his shirt on? He’s fire.”

One look at Claire’s heartbroken expression, and I knew she could hear the conversation unfolding beside us.

“Ew,” Claire whispered, innocent, brown eyes looking to me for help.

“Ignore her, Claire,” I said loud enough for the girls to hear me. “The only thing she’ll be coming on tonight is her hand.”

“Oh God,” Shelly and Helen groaned in unison, taking a safe step behind Claire.

The third-year girls’ laughter quietened and one of them swung around to toss me a dirty look.

The moment we locked eyes on each other, recognition filled her blue eyes.

Oh yeah , she remembered me.

Our previous encounter at school, when I caught wind of her trying to sit on my boyfriend’s lap during Irish, had been a memorable one.

“Ugh,” the brunette sneered, glaring at me. “Of course it’s you .”

I grinned. “Hi.”

“How does it feel to be the biggest bitch in school?”

“Trust me, you haven’t met my version of bitch yet,” I shot back without missing a beat. “But put your hands on that boy and you’ll quickly find out.”

“You girls don’t own those boys, you know.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I argued back at her, half hoping she’d go it a little further and do something stupid like push me. I only needed one excuse. Just one. “Because you claim what you lick and Claire called dibs on that boy a long time ago, so why don’t you hurry along and find some other misfortunate asshole to sink your teeth in?”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

“I’d rather be a bitch than a whore. Now, off you go, whore .”

“Yeah,” Claire added, finding her voice with a little backup. “You heard her. Skedaddle.”

A few more insults were tossed back and forth before the lads joined us.

“How are the ladies?” Robbie Mac acknowledged, while he and the rest of his teammates cut in line and joined us near the front. Of course, because they were the rugby gods of Tommen, nobody said a word about it. Assholes .

“Claire-Bear!” Making a beeline for my friend, Thor draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “Christ, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

My usual discomfort at his presence was replaced by smugness when I watched the girls we were arguing with turn green with jealousy.

Hah!

“There’s my baby,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear, and a deep, illicit shiver rippled through my body when his chest brushed against my back.

Glancing over my shoulder, I looked up at my boyfriend and exhaled a contented breath. “Hi.”

God, he was so much taller now. For a while when we were younger, we were almost the same height. He was always an inch or so taller, but I thought I might catch up. Not anymore, though. No, because his hormones had taken puberty seriously and he was now towering above me.

When his hand came around my middle, palm flattening against my lower belly, I couldn’t stop myself from sagging against him, absorbing the heat of his body against mine. My hand moved to cover his instinctively, like I had been programed to respond to his touch.

Because his touch was good.

It was safe.

It was so fucking right.

When he was with me, I finally felt like I was okay again. Like the world was back on its axis. Normality had resumed and I would survive. I had another night of living left in me, but only if I got to live it with him.

Hugh continued chatting to our friends, while I lost track of everything that was happening around us, too engrossed to focus on a word of it. Every now and then, he would press a kiss to my bare shoulder, and that only complicated things further.

Because I was starving for this boy.