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"Right, I'm off!" I called, bounding down the stairs.
It was Gibsie's birthday, and he'd asked if me and Eloise wanted to join him and the lads at Biddies. Obviously, I'd said yes—free drinks, a bit of fun, and a night out were exactly what I needed.
"Come show me the outfit!" Aoife's voice called from the living room.
I stepped into the room to find Kevin on one end of the sofa and Aoife lounging on the other side with Joey, a plate balanced on her lap piled high with nachos, Nutella, and... mayo?
"The hell are you eating?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.
"Nachos and Nutella," she replied nonchalantly, dipping a Nutella-covered nacho into a generous dollop of mayo. "Don't knock it till ye try it."
"What the fuck..." I muttered, giving Joey a look of pure horror. He just shrugged, like he'd long since stopped questioning her food choices.
"Right... well, enjoy that," I said, deciding to move on. I noticed Aoife's gaze drift over my outfit, and she smiled.
"Love the outfit, Blue! Where are ye off to?" she asked.
I glanced down, suddenly a bit self-conscious but also proud of my look. My hair was down, with the ends loosely curled for a touch of bounce. I wore crisp white trainers that stood out against my flared jeans—mid-rise and faded at the thighs, with that perfect 2000s cut that hugged at the hips and loosened below the knee. They were worn but comfy, with just a hint of fraying at the hem. I'd paired them with a fitted green baby tee that had "Lucky" written in a small script across the chest.I'd kept my makeup simple but added a bit of lip gloss for some shine.
"Biddies," I said with a grin. "I'll either be staying at Eloise's or I'll be back late."
"Oooh! Are you going to see that Patrick Eloise told me about?" she teased, her grin wicked.
I felt my cheeks heat up. "Be quiet! Love ye!" I called, dashing out the door before she could say anything else. The evening air was cool as I made my way down the street, excitement building as I headed for Eloise's.
I knocked on the door, but before my hand could even make contact a second time, it swung open, revealing Eloise looking like she'd gone through a war zone. Her face was pale, and she leaned against the doorframe, looking utterly miserable.
"Don't ask," she muttered, lifting a hand in warning. "Two words: uncooked chicken."
"What—the chicken we used in food tech today?"
"Yep," she groaned, pressing a hand to her stomach. "Mine was undercooked. Maybe we should just agree that you're the designated cook from now on."
I raised an eyebrow, fighting a laugh. "I told you, you didn't cook it long enough!"
"Oh, hush!" she shot back, giving me a playful eye roll. "I've got to learn somehow, don't I?"
"Well..I'll just head home, get my pjs on, and come back, pop the kettle on for some tea—"
