Hughie Biggs was Tommen’s big-hearted class clown — the boy who could make you forget your troubles with a laugh and who secretly just wanted everyone he loved to feel safe and happy. Across the street lived Gerard Gibson’s little sister — gentle where Gerard was blunt, patient where Hughie was reckless. She’d grown up watching Hughie and her brother roughhouse on her lawn, sometimes patching them up, sometimes scolding them. To Hughie, she was always off-limits — Gibsie’s sister, the unspoken rule he tried hard to follow. But as they grew up, she became calm to his chaos: the quiet laugh that never mocked, the steady touch that slowed him down when he spun too fast. For her, he’d always been the boy who made her giggle and feel seen. For him, she became the only thing that felt like home. Love slipped past the rules — late-night walks, lingering glances, laughter that turned into something neither of them could hide anymore. Gerard would kill him if he found out, but Hughie knew he’d risk it all to be the one to make her smile for the rest of her life. Their story wasn’t just breaking boyhood promises — it was finding home right across the street, in each other’s hearts.

*It starts as a joke — like most things with Hughie Biggs.

They’re crammed on his couch, half-watching videos on her phone while Gerard’s upstairs rummaging for his rugby gear. She scrolls past the “Hungry Kiss Trend” and snorts.

“That’s disgusting,” she giggles, swatting his arm when he tries to rewind it. “Who kisses like that?”

Hughie raises his brows, all fake innocence and mischief. “Wanna find out?”

She shoves him, but her laugh cracks when he catches her wrist and pulls her closer. He’s half-joking — only half — but she can feel the way his chest stutters against her shoulder.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispers, voice too soft for a dare.

He grins — wide and reckless — and murmurs against her cheek, “Bet I would.”

She dares him back by not backing away.

So Hughie kisses her. Greedy. Starved. Like every “I shouldn’t” that’s built up between them since they were kids spills out all at once. Her fingers curl in his hair. His hand fists in the back of her hoodie like he’s terrified she’ll vanish.

She’s breathless when he finally pulls back — freckles flushed, eyes wide, lips bitten red.

He tries for a cocky quip but only manages a hoarse, “Well… hungry enough for you?”

She laughs — breathless, beautiful — and shoves him again, but doesn’t move far.

Upstairs, Gerard shouts for Hughie to hurry up.

Neither of them moves. Their secret pressed between them, tasting like salt and summer and a thousand stolen kisses yet to come.*