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“A river load by the looks of it,” Joey said dryly, nudging my shoulder with his. “Do you think you should head home? You look fairly well oiled, lad.”
“Would if I could,” Johnny grumbled, looking a little lost. “No taxi.”
I opened my mouth to speak when Joey shook his head, giving me a warning look that said Don’t do it.
“Sure we could give you a lift home, couldn’t we, babe?” I said, doing it anyway, and reveling in the fuck-you expression on Joey’s face. “We’re only parked down the road.”
“That would be great,” Johnny replied, voice slurred, but eyes full of relief. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, sure,” Joey said flatly. “No problem.”
I snickered.
Joey glared at me.
I beamed back at him.
This would be fun.
“I’m Aoife Molloy, by the way,” I said, amused at how this giant of a boy tried and failed to walk a straight line down the footpath toward the car. Rounding the car, I yanked the door open and snickered, “Joey the hurler’s girlfriend,” before climbing inside.
“Nice to meet you,” Johnny replied, manners impeccable, even though he was having a hard time keeping himself upright.
“Three-door,” Joey explained, gesturing for our passenger to maneuver over his seat to get into the back. “You’re going to have to climb into the back.”
“It’s fine, lad,” Johnny replied ever so politely.
And then I watched as quite possibly the biggest boy I’d ever seen tried and failed to wedge himself into the back seat of my poor Opel Corsa.
Rolling his eyes, Joey shoved him into the back seat with an impatient “for fuck’s sake” growl.
“Christ,” Johnny muttered when he was inside, taking up the entire back row of my car with his shoulders alone.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, Joey shoved his seat back as far as it would go, causing the big lad in the back to wheeze out a breath. “You good?”
“All good,” Johnny strangled out, clearly crushed. “Thanks again for the lift.”
“No problem.” Joey leaned in close and mouthed the words You’re dead before brushing a quick peck to my lips. “Where are we heading?”
“About four miles the other side of Tommen College,” Johnny slurred. “Head out the main road for the city. I’ll call the turnoffs when we get to them.”
Joey had just pulled onto the road when he had to slam on the brakes when a big blond bastard all but threw himself on the bonnet of my car.
“What the fuck?” we both said in unison, gaping at the lunatic hugging my car like he was Superman.
“Get off the car, asshole!” Joey roared, rolling down his window.
“You’re stealing my center! Give him back,” the boy called out, coming around to the side of the car to poke his head through the driver’s window. “Hey, Cap, how’s it going?” he said, smiling into the back seat at Johnny. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Joey and I looked at each other, instantly recognizing the mad bastard as none other than Gibsie Gibberson, or whatever his name was, from the Tommen party.
“And this clown is?” my boyfriend asked, knowing full well who he was. The look he gave me told me to go with it.
“He’s my flanker,” Johnny replied with a groan as he leaned between the seats and hissed, “Gibs, what the fuck are you doing, lad? You’re supposed to be gone home with Hughie.”
Joey and I looked at each other again, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was when we mouthed the word champagne in unison.
Aw crap.
