SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Birthday Boy

Johnny's Point of View

I woke up to the sound of Gibsie's obnoxiously loud laughter.

Groaning, I cracked one eye open to find him standing at the foot of my bed, grinning like a lunatic.

"What the fuck, lad?" My voice was hoarse from sleep. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to wake up." He shrugged like this was the most normal thing in the world, then—without warning—tore the blankets off me.

I let out a string of curses as the cold air hit me.

"Come on, Cap. Time to get ready," he said cheerfully.

"You're one to talk." I scowled, shoving myself upright. "You're still in your boxers."

Gibsie simply smirked. "You're the one that spends at least forty-five minutes in the bathroom every morning. I had to wake you up early just to make sure we're not late."

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "And what time is it?"

"Almost eleven." He waggled his eyebrows. "You took your beauty sleep a little too seriously, lad. We've got to be at the restaurant in an hour and a half, and I'm starving."

"You ate three pizzas last night."

"Exactly," he said, deadpan. "That was last night. Today is a new day, and a new day means new food."

I shook my head, chuckling as I dragged myself out of bed. I barely had time to react before I heard Gibsie rummaging through my drawers.

I gave him a warning glance. "If you wear anything embarrassing, I'm leaving you behind."

"Wow. That's cold, Johnny. Even for you." He dramatically clutched his chest.

"Just—get dressed, lad." I muttered, shaking my head as I grabbed some clothes.

I made my way into the bathroom, sore as fuck from training. My groin injury was still there, a dull ache that refused to be ignored.

Shite.

I couldn't let it get to me. U20s call-ups were right around the corner. If anyone found out about this, my shot at making the squad would be over before it even began.

I let the hot water run over my shoulders, pressing my forehead against the cool tiles.

I couldn't afford to think about it now.

Gibsie's birthday.
Lunch with the team.
Maeve.

I clenched my jaw. That last thought had come too quickly.

Shaking my head, I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist. I needed to focus.

By the time I walked back into the room, Gibsie was sprawled out on my bed, still half-naked, wearing one of my old jerseys.

"Are you serious?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're wearing?"

"Vintage is in right now." He said with a grin. "Classic look. Johnny Kavanagh, circa fifteen-years-old."

I shot him a look. "Get dressed properly."

"Fine," he muttered. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Fifteen minutes later, I finally managed to shove him out the door.

Which was a miracle, considering he was now wearing a Hawaiian shirt, complete with a bright floral print and bold colours.

When I asked him if he planned on freezing to death, since it was January and we lived in Ireland, he simply pulled out a Hawaiian-patterned jacket from his bag and threw it on.