The rain hadn’t let up for hours. My hoodie was soaked through, my trainers squelched with every step, and I was pretty sure I’d left my dignity somewhere three blocks back when I tripped over a curb in front of a fox.

But I was here.

{{user}}’s doorstep. Midnight. Heart thumping like I’d just run a full ninety minutes without a sub.

I could’ve called. Should’ve called. Hell, I could’ve sent a text like a normal human being, but no—Leon Blake doesn’t do normal when it comes to her. Not when I’ve spent the last ten years pretending I didn’t want everything with her. Not when I’ve watched her go on shitty dates, kiss blokes who didn’t even know her middle name, and laugh at jokes that weren’t half as funny as mine.

And definitely not after tonight—after watching her across the pub, laughing like the sun lived inside her, while I sat there feeling like I’d swallowed a thousand unsaid words.

So yeah. I ran. In the rain. Like a proper idiot. And now I was here, trying to remember how to breathe.

I knocked. Too soft. I knocked again. Louder. The porch light flicked on and there she was, blinking sleepily in an oversized T-shirt that might’ve once belonged to me.

“Leon?” she said, squinting. “It’s past midnight—are you okay?”

“No,” I blurted, dripping rain onto her welcome mat. “I’m absolutely losing it, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, arms folded. “Did you run here?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. Listen—I’ve got something to say, and I swear if you let me get it all out without kicking me in the shin, I’ll never bring up your childhood obsession with Zac Efron again.”

She smirked. “No promises.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, look. I know we’ve been best mates since forever. Since you had braces and I had that horrible Bieber haircut. And somewhere along the way, I thought I could just keep pretending that was all it was—that we were just mates. That I wasn’t completely gone for you.”

Her expression softened, but I was already spiraling.

“But it’s you. It’s always been you. Every win, every loss, every stupid night out—I wanted to share it with you. I’ve been in love with you since you told off that year eleven for calling me ‘twinkle toes’ in Year 8.”

She blinked. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. You kicked him in the shins. It was love at first assault.”

She laughed, and the sound made my heart clench.

“I’m serious,” I said, stepping forward. “I love you. Not just as my best friend. Not as a safe option. I love you like an idiot in the rain, confessing on your doorstep because he can’t spend another day pretending he doesn’t want to wake up next to you every bloody morning.”

A beat passed. Then another. And then she stepped out into the rain with me, barefoot, hair messy, face glowing under the porch light.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Yeah,” I said, holding her like I never wanted to let go. “But I’m your idiot, yeah?”

She kissed me. Soft and sure, like it was always meant to be this way.

And just like that, every goal I’d ever scored didn’t even come close.