Taming 7 (Boys of Tommen Book 5)
Taming 7: Chapter 48

“Claire, come on, will you?” At a snail’s pace, I continued to drive along beside her with my hazard lights on and car window rolled down. “Just get in the car, please.” Ignoring the honking horns from the countless pissed off road users tailing me, I concentrated on the furious blonde stomping down the side of the road instead. “You’re going to get washed away.” That was a very real concern of mine. It was raining so hard that even with my windscreen wipers switched to full speed, I was having a hard time seeing the road ahead of me. “You’re not even wearing a coat, you wally!”

“Don’t call me a wally, you big tool,” she called back, upping her pace only to step in a huge puddle and splash herself in brown mud. “Ugh. Perfect! Just perfect!”

Jesus, what a mess, and I wasn’t talking about her clothes.

“Claire,” I coaxed, trying another approach, as I leaned an arm out the window and tried to reason with her. “I’m sorry, okay? Just get in the car and you can kill me while you dry off in the warm!”

“Why?” she demanded, stopping dead in her tracks. She folded her arms across her chest and glared. “Why are you sorry, Gerard?”

“Why?” I shook my head in confusion. “Because I pissed you off enough that you climbed out of the car on the main road?”

“Ugh!” She stamped her foot in frustration and continued walking. “Tool!”

“Well, didn’t I?” I called out, rolling along beside her once more. “I mean, you’re obviously mad at me if you’re to walk the full three miles to Cap’s house.”

“I’m not mad, Gerard,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m furious!”

Spying the entrance to Ballylaggin Woods up ahead, I switched on my indicator and drove fifty yards or so up ahead and pulled into the gap.

Killing the engine, I threw the door open and climbed out. “Are you happy?” I snapped, throwing my hands up, as I walked back to her. “Because we’re both getting soaked now.”

“Oh my God, just go away!” Claire shouted. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Well, that’s too fucking bad because I’m not leaving you on the side of the road, sweetheart!” I snapped back, pushing my already drenched hair out of my eyes. “Anyone could take you!”

“Take me?” She threw her head back and laughed humorlessly. “Like who? Old Dinny Byrne from Glenroe on his tractor?” She rolled her eyes. “Get real, Gerard.”

“I am being real,” I shouted back. “You’re the one acting like a lunatic here. And don’t take the piss out of Glenroe when we both loved that show,” I accused. “So, why don’t you do us both a favor and climb in the car before we both get double goddamn pneumonia!”

“No.”

“No?” I gaped at her. “Why the hell not?”

“Because you suck, Gerard Gibson!”

“I suck because I want to keep you safe?” I flailed my arms around in exasperation. “Oh yeah, I’m a right horrible bastard.”

“You know what?” Narrowing her eyes, Claire stalked over to the gate I was parked in front of and climbed over it. “Go screw yourself, Gerard.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to take a gander through the woods now, are you?” I demanded, stalking after her. “Is that your genius plan, Claire-Bear?” I demanded, jumping the gate with ease. “Because it’s a really shitty one.”

“I don’t care!” she screamed back, doubling her efforts to outwalk me. “Now stop following me!”

“I told you that I’m not leaving you alone to be kidnapped,” I growled, absolutely following her. “You little demon!”

“Being kidnapped is sounding awfully tempting right now,” she spat. “At least it would save me from being anywhere near you, you big bull.”

“Oh, so I’m a bull now?”

“Yep!”

“How’d you figure that one?”

“Uh, maybe because you look like one. Except that you have piercings in your nipples instead of your nose!”

“Are you saying that my tits resemble those of a bull?”

“If the moo fits, Gerard!”

“Take it back.”

“No!”

“That was a very fucking hurtful statement to make.”

“Good.”

“Take it back.”

“I said no!”

“Take it back, Claire, or I’ll be forced to say something myself.”

“Like what?”

“Like how the webbed baby toe on your left foot isn’t cute,” I called out. “I lied. It’s weird as fuck!”

“Oh, you are such an asshole,” she screamed, throwing her hands up. “Now I’m glad I said it. And you know what else, Gerard Gibson? Your jokes aren’t even funny half the time. That’s right. You have shit craic.”

“How dare you!” I staggered back, feeling like she had physically struck me. “My craic is ninety.”

“Your craic is mediocre,” Claire called over her shoulder, storming through the tree line. “Now go away!”

“Jesus Christ,” I growled, pressing my fingers to my temples. I shook my head, at a complete fucking loss with this girl. “Can you stop walking away from me for two goddamn minutes and just talk to me calmly so we can figure this out?!”

“No, because it’s always words with you!” she screamed, pushing her rain-drenched hair back from her face. “It’s always words and smiles and conversations, and I’m over it, Gerard!” She threw her hands up in the air – dramatic as always – as the heavens continued to pelt down on us. “Oh my God. What’s the point in even arguing with you?” She shook her head and screamed, “You’re never going to get it!”

“Get it?”

“Us, Gerard!” she screamed. “You don’t get us!”

“Us?” Now I was the furious one. “You think I don’t get us?” I demanded, upping my pace, and closing the space between us. “Oh, I get us, Claire,” I snapped, bristling with temper. “I’ve been getting us for a lot fucking longer than you!” Catching up with her, I grabbed her hand and pulled her back to face me. “Stop running away from me, dammit.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” she challenged, tears mixing with raindrops. “Huh?” She ripped her hand free and stormed off, only to turn back around and stalk back to me. “Dammit, Gerard, why won’t you just show me how you feel?”

“I do!”

“No, you don’t,” she choked out, shoving me again. “You tell me.” Tears dripped onto her cheeks as she cried. “You’re always telling me, Gerard, when I’m standing here begging you to show me.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not that easy for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid!”

“Of what?” she demanded, pushing at my chest. “Huh?” She pushed me again. “What are you afraid of?”

“You, Claire,” I roared back at her, chest heaving. “I’m afraid of you!”

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