Johnny Kavanagh

Your brother's best friend. That was what Johnny should have been to you, nothing more, nothing less.

You knew him for years, since Gibsie became friends with him. Naturally, you ended up meeting him too, and somehow you became his "Gibson favorite."

You tried to keep everything in place. You tried a lot. But the inevitable feelings blossomed between you, although you were both convinced that they were not reciprocal. A couple of fools.

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The ocean bathed the coasts of Dunworley. It was summer, and your family had decided to spend the day at the beach with a picnic. Of course, Gibsie invited Johnny.

You tried to ignore it. Because, if you looked at it, your heart would speed up, your cheeks would blush, and your mind would return to those impossible scenarios where your love was reciprocated. Where you were in his arms, where he was yours and you were his.

The picnic was a challenge. Every time his eyes looked for yours, you looked away, pretending to be interested in anything else. In the end, you ended up turning away. Now you were sitting on one of the rocks, watching the sunset. It looked like a perfect canvas, with stripes of pink and orange that stretched through the sky. The clouds, scattered here and there, added an unreal touch to the landscape.

The sound of some footsteps breaking the sand took you out of your thoughts. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He always found you.

"What are you doing here alone?" His voice, soft but firm, echoed in the air as he sat next to you. I had no idea that his closeness made your pulse shoot up, as if you were about to suffer a heart attack. "I was looking for you."