“The fuck?” Johnny gaped at him before turning to me. “And your birthday’s not in March?” “No, it is not in bloody March, you sorry excuse for a best friend,” I huffed. “The fucking cheek of you forgetting my birthday.” “Sorry, Gibs, I could’ve sworn it was in March.” He scratched his jaw. “Why is March in my head?” “Because Shannon’s birthday is in March,” I growled. “You pussy-whipped prick.”
