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“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “You’re listening outside the girl’s bedroom now?”
When he didn’t deny it, I shook my head.
“You have a problem, Gibs. A big one.”
“It’s only a problem if you admit it,” he countered with a knowing grin. “Isn’t that how it works, Johnny?”
“Fuck off,” I growled, knowing exactly what he was getting at.
“Go on, Johnny. Just go over there and talk to her,” he encouraged. “You can do it.”
“No, Gibs,” I bit out. “Let it go.”
“Why not?” he demanded in an exasperated tone.
“Because I don’t want to,” I snapped.
“Liar.”
“You know what? For a fella who calls himself my best friend, you’re doing a shitty job,” I growled. “I told you I’m not going there with that girl. I told you she’s too fucking young for me.”
“You’re the one who can’t stop staring at her,” he barked.
“Well, tell me to stop,” I shot back. “Don’t tell me to go over there.”
“I did tell you to stop,” Gibsie hissed, sounding exasperated. “Like two minutes ago. I told you to stop staring at her like a creeper, and yet here you are, still fucking her with your eyes, and still looking like someone shit in your cornflakes.” He threw his hands up. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
“You’re supposed to remember that I’m the eejit who almost died this morning being dessy driver for your learner arse,” I grumbled. “So instead of encouraging me to make bad choices, why don’t you try and support me for once?”
“I’m a good driver!”
I rolled my eyes. “You are a liability.”
“And I am nothing but supportive to you.” He huffed dramatically. “I am your number fucking one supporter, Johnny Kavanagh.” Leaning back in his seat, he folded his arms across his chest and gave me a pointed look. “You really hurt my feelings just now.”
“I hurt your feelings?” I cocked a brow. “Who’s the bitch with a vagina now?”
“Apologize,” he ordered.
“Get the fuck out of here, ya eejit,” I said, laughing.
He glared back at me. “Say you’re sorry.”
“For what?”
“For hurting my feelings,” he sniffed. “Now apologize.”
“I’m sorry, Gibs,” I placated, deciding it was easier to just give the big eejit what he wanted.
“You could mean it,” he argued.
“You could learn not to push your luck,” I warned.
We had a fifteen-second stare-down until he grinned and said, “I accept your apology.”
“Good,” I muttered. “I’m delighted for ya.”
“And since you seem to need so much support these days—” Shoving back his chair, Gibsie stood up and winked at me. “I’ll go talk to her for you.”
