You, every time.

Part 1 - Friday Night Dinner

Word count: 2377

Friday the 10th of February

Maeve groaned. The sensation of waking up in a bed that wasn't her own quickly filled her up. It took her a moment to remember she wasn't even in a bed at all. In the dusty hazes of sleep, she reached to left and felt a sofa cushion. Like an anchor, she used the soft plush of it to pull herself up.
Maeve looked blearily around the space, the coffee table to her right and the blanket thrown over her lap. At home she would have slept in just her underwear, but this was not her home. That meant sleeping in Pyjamas, which she was finding sweaty and uncomfortable.
Pushing herself up, her bare feet made the unwelcome contact with the cold wooden floorboards of Johnny's apartment. Maeve had been there for a week now. It had been a spur of the moment decision. The fire fighter had asked her if she had a place to stay. Johnny was just... there.

The boy in questions pattered into the space from his bedroom behind her. She looked up to give him a meek morning smile. Maeve would have spoken, but she knew her voice would be croaky from the lack of sleep. Taking him in, she scanned over his naked torso and dark grey joggers, the ruffle of his brown hair, the sleep still riddling his gentle chestnut eyes.
"Morning sleepy-head," Johnny's deep morning sent a slight blush over Maeve's cheeks.  Just friends, she reminded herself, reciting the words like a mantra. "Want some breakfast?" He asked, "I've got toast, or toast...and I think there might be some toast in the bread bin!"
She gave his weak joke a small chuckle, standing for her place on the sofa and smoothing out her PJs.
"I think I'll jump in the shower first," she replied with a smile to the boy as he walked into the kitchen. "And from your many breakfast opinion I think I'll have to go for... toast!"

~~~

The woman massaged the cold water into her scalp and blonde hair with gentle fingers, allowing the last drips of water to fall onto her skin. She turned off the shower, it gave a squeak of protest before letting out its final splash of water. The thing was ancient but Johnny refused to replace it, the task was far too expensive.
Maeve pulled the towel over her exposed skin and wrapped her hair in the second piece of cloth. She then slipped into a pair of blue washed-put jeans and a crimson top that cut off at her waist.

Eager to eat, she made her way out of the bathroom, through the French-doors and into the kitchen, drying her hair with the towel absentmindedly.
"How was the sofa?" Johnny asked as she pulled out a chair and sat at his small, white painted table.
"Good!" She lied, tucking into some toast with a knife lathered in jam.
"We've known eachother for 24 years Vee, you think I can't tell when you're lying." Johnny gave her a playful warning look across the dining table, "the bed is yours when you want it."
"The bed is already occupied," she retorted, biting down on the toast.
"I'm sorry, what was the issue?" Johnny gave her a feigned quizzical look and Maeve laughed off his flirtatious comment. Shaking her head, she finished her toast and leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips.   
"Come to Friday night dinner tonight,"
Johnny had hardly got his request out before Maeve started to groan.
"Not this again! I can't just crash your family dinner!" She cried, thinking that this must have been the eighth time he'd asked her in two days.
"Maeve," he looked at her seriously over his mug of tea, "you practically are family! My parents have known you since you were born and we've been friends for what feels like far longer than that" she gave this impossible comment a small chuckle, "my parents have been asking you to dinner since your lot moved out to America and that was six months ago! The fire was only a week ago and mum has already called me four times asking if you'll come round for dinner," Maeve sighed, trying to turn away from his words but Johnny grabbed her hand. She pushed the blush that crept onto her cheeks down. "Please?" He looked deep into her maroon eyes.
"Fine!" She relented.
"Yes! A Skill McGill!" Johnny grinned in a childish manner that caused his friend to role her eyes. "We will leave here at 5, so be ready!" Maeve bit her nails, a worried expression washing over her features. "What is it?" Johnny asked.
"Oh nothing I just... I don't know what to wear," she admitted sheepishly. He laughed.
"You're so ridiculous," Johnny shook his head and stood up from the table.
Maeve watched him leave, tracking his movement through the French door and turning right into his bedroom. She noted that his back muscle was quite pronounced when he wasn't wearing a shirt. Maeve scolded herself.