SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Rich people things

Maeve's Point of View

Waking up at Niamh's felt different, but not in a bad way. The smell of bacon and eggs lured me downstairs, and sure enough, she was standing by the stove, flipping eggs like some sort of domestic goddess.

"Is this how rich people feel?" I asked as she placed a plate in front of me. "Like, having your own personal chef?"

Niamh rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it."

I dug in immediately, realizing just how hungry I was. "What's the plan for today?" I mumbled between bites.

Niamh gave me a flat look. "Did you seriously forget already? We need to get ready for Gibsie's birthday."

"Oh, right," I said through a mouthful of food.

"Jaysus, slow down," she chided. "If you eat any faster, you're going to choke."

"I'm a world champion in inhaling food," I assured her—before promptly choking on a piece of bacon.

Niamh just gave me a look that screamed I told you so.

After a sip of water and some coughing, I recovered. "Now that you remind me, I need to get a gift for Gibsie."

"You know he won't expect anything, right?" she said.

"Because I'm poor?"

"That, and because he only invited you yesterday."

"It's fine. I'll just grab something ridiculous from the shop. Shouldn't cost me more than a fiver."

"If you say so." She sighed, pushing back from the table. "But if we want to be on time, we better start getting ready now."

I nodded, still finishing my breakfast. "Got any makeup I can borrow? I only have concealer."

Niamh raised an eyebrow. "You only have concealer? You had a full face on yesterday."

"I borrowed Aoife's stuff," I admitted. "Joey's girlfriend—told you about her and Casey last night."

"Oh, right. Aoife." She paused before adding, "I'm glad you made up with your old friends from BCS."

"I feel a but coming."

"But," she said, as expected, "I still think they're bitches for cutting you off for two months."

I sighed. "I'm not innocent in that, either. It was easier to push them away."

"Well, I'm not going to be that easy to get rid of," she said firmly. "You're stuck with me, Connor."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "Guess I'll have to make peace with that."

"Damn right," she said, smirking as she finished her toast. "Now, hurry up. We've got work to do."

After breakfast, we headed upstairs. Niamh had an entire arsenal of makeup neatly arranged in a drawer, and before I could protest, she pulled out her brushes.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing at the chair in front of her mirror.

"I can do my own makeup, you know."

"Yeah, but not as well as me. Now shut up and let me work."

I sighed but didn't argue, letting her apply primer and foundation with the precision of a professional. It had been a long time since someone had done my makeup for me—probably not since some random sleepover with Aoife.

When she finished, she stepped back, inspecting her work. "There. Now you look like a model."

I checked the mirror. She had gone for a natural look but still made me look ten times better than I could have managed myself.