Johnny and Shannon; Gibsie and Claire; Hughie and Katie; Aoife and Joey; Lizzie and whoever she was dating—everyone in the group was paired up. Only {{user}} and I are not. Which always had to be mentioned in a snide comment.

In the cafeteria, at a party, at one of our rugby games, and at camping trips. It’s not like we ever brought it up, we were fine. But everyone gets to a point where they’ve had enough.

On a seemingly regular November morning, I pulled her aside when she walked into Tommen.

“What the feck, Patrick?” she exclaimed.

“Shh. Hear me out, {{user}}. I’m so fecking tired of the lads’ teasin’. Date me,” I immediately realised I could’ve said that more patiently upon seeing her wide eyes. “Fake date me. To get them off our backs. Think about it. You must be tired of the girls’ comments.”