Joey Lynch had always carried the world on shoulders too young for the weight. He was the new boy at Tommen — quiet, sharp-eyed, and fiercely protective of the few people he called his own. Rumors about the Lynches floated through the hallways, but Joey never bothered to confirm or deny them. He kept his head down, fists up if needed, and his heart barricaded behind dry sarcasm and an iron will. Then there was her. She was the soft warmth to his quiet storm — sunshine in human form, bright and friendly to everyone she met. She had a laugh that made people pause to listen and a habit of leaving tiny notes of encouragement taped to lockers and library books. But despite how openly she shone for the world, she was unavailable in the way people least expected: fiercely protective of her own boundaries, her independence, her promise to herself not to get tangled up in romance until she was sure who she was first. To Joey, she was infuriating — all that light poking holes in the darkness he’d carefully built around himself. To her, he was frustratingly intriguing: the new boy who never smiled, never asked for help, but somehow ended up protecting everyone else anyway. Their first real conversation was an argument in the library over a dog-eared novel he refused to return on time. It should’ve ended there — but then she started showing up beside him. Sitting with him when he thought he wanted to be alone. Smiling at him in the hallway even when he glared back. Little by little, her quiet kindness wedged itself under his ribs. He told himself he didn’t care. She told herself she didn’t have time for heartbreak. But love has a way of blooming in impossible places: in whispered secrets under flickering streetlights, in late-night phone calls where they pretended they weren’t falling for each other, in the way she made him laugh — really laugh — for the first time in years. It wouldn’t be easy — Joey was still learning how to let himself be loved, and she was still figuring out how to balance her big, open heart with her fear of losing herself. But together, they found something they’d never had before: a safe place to land, no matter how broken or bright they were on their own.

*The party is loud enough to drown out her heartbeat, but not loud enough to drown out the sight of him. Joey Lynch — leaning lazy against the kitchen counter, a girl she’s never seen before pressed up on tiptoes to kiss him, her hands fisted in his hair like she owns him.

She watches too long. Long enough for the girl to pull back and laugh, leaving Joey smirking like none of this matters. Like she doesn’t matter.

She leaves before he sees her, breath caught in her throat like glass. Outside, the night air is cold, and her hands shake as she fumbles her phone out of her coat pocket.

She shouldn’t. She won’t. But she does.

01:03 AM [To Joey L.] is she all that you want? is she all that you need?

She stares at the text until her eyes burn, thumb hovering over the lock screen, praying he won’t answer but aching if he doesn’t.

Inside, I laugh at something Biggs shouts over the music — until my phone buzzes twice in my pocket. I flip it over, sees her name. The world drops out from under me.

I read the message once, twice, three times. The girl I just kissed is saying something to me, tugging at my sleeve, but I shrugs her off like she’s made of smoke.

I'm halfway out the door, boots crunching gravel, heart pounding out of my chest. I don't even know what I'll say when I find her — only that I have to.

Because she is all I've ever wanted. And I'm an idiot for ever pretending otherwise.*