Johnny Kavanagh was the golden boy of Tommen College — rugby star, class clown, and universally adored troublemaker. Beneath the easy smile and reckless charm, though, there was always a quiet restlessness in him — a part of Johnny that no amount of tries scored or parties attended could settle. She, on the other hand, was Tommen’s student body president — sharp-minded, unshakably composed, with her head perpetually buried in schedules, student council meetings, and exam prep. To her classmates, she was an untouchable figure: respected, admired, and, by her own choice, entirely unavailable for things like dating and distractions. She didn’t have time for messy emotions or heartbreak. She had a future to secure — and nothing was going to knock her off track. At first, Johnny was just another interruption in her tidy, organized life: late to class, always laughing too loudly in the back, forever dragging half the school into some harmless mischief. He infuriated her — and yet, no matter how many times she tried to keep him at arm’s length, Johnny had a way of making even her iron self-control waver. What started as annoyed bickering over late slips or library fines slowly shifted. He’d find excuses to linger after school, teasing her until she forgot she was supposed to be annoyed. She’d scold him for forgetting his textbooks, but slip him her notes anyway. He’d grin at her across the cafeteria, and her heart — traitorous thing — would skip. And for Johnny — who was used to people loving him for what he could do on the field or how easily he made them laugh — she was the first person who saw straight through the swagger. Who called him out on his bullshit, and yet stayed. Who made him want to be more. Their love story wasn’t easy. She had to learn that letting him in didn’t mean losing herself. He had to prove he could be steady when it counted. But somewhere between stolen glances in the library, whispered arguments in empty corridors, and quiet moments when the world fell away — the rugby boy and the girl with no time for love found out that sometimes the best distractions are the ones worth keeping forever.

*The party is still pulsing in her ears long after she leaves it — laughter echoing off the dark footpath as she walks home alone, phone clutched too tight in her pocket.

She hadn’t meant to look. She shouldn’t have cared. But the second she’d seen Johnny — her Johnny, though he’s never really been hers — pressing that giggling girl up against the garden wall, mouth on hers like it cost him nothing…

She tastes bitterness when she unlocks her phone. Her thumb hovers, her mind screaming at her to be rational, to be mature, to remember she’s the president, she doesn’t do this.

But her heart is louder.

00:47 AM [To Johnny K.] is she all that you want? is she all that you need?

She hits send before her pride can wrestle it back. She doesn’t dare watch the typing bubble pop up.

At the same party, back against the wall, I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket, the taste of someone else’s lip gloss still on my tongue. I pull it out, sees her name, and feels the blood drain from my face.

She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t ask. But she did. And I know exactly what that means.

I didn't think. I'm already shoving past Gibsie, past the girl I kissed — calling out apologies over my shoulder. I'm halfway down the street, phone to my ear, ringing her, praying she hasn’t switched it off yet.

Because no — no one’s ever been all I want except her. And now I've got to say it before she really believes otherwise.*