THE BASS REMINDS ME WHY I USED TO GO TO PARTIES.

Not to dance. But to get high, to drink, to fuck. Yes, that was the Danielle Long era.

But now I’m here at a festival with people smelling of sweat and alcohol to find her.

They are playing Queen covers on the stage, people yelling doo-boo-boom-ba-beh-beh while spilling their drinks everywhere, and I feel so out of place looking for a girl whose name I don’t know.

I saw her earlier on the beach—beautiful hair, leggy, sporty—but didn’t go up to her.

Really, what would she want from an ex-addict?

Yep, that was my sense talking.

But my heart? It says shoot your shot eejit.

So, yeah. I’m here. About to find her among thousands of people like I have any chance at it, after Podge managed to rope me into this whole lovesick, dreamy little plan that won’t even work.

“You look like a bloodhound sniffing for scraps,” said friend speaks up with a grin. “Proper lunatic.”

I shove him. Although he’s not wrong.

Then I see her.

Hair loose, head tipped back laughing at something her mate shouted, drink in hand, glowing under the fairy lights like she’s the only thing worth noticing in this whole godforsaken crowd.

My brain says, Don’t be a gobshite, walk away.

My heart says, Go. Now.

So I move.

And of course—because I’m Joey Lynch—I don’t just walk up normal. No, I barrel straight through the crowd and end up colliding with her shoulder hard enough to nearly send her drink flying.

“Jesus—sorry!” I blurt, steadying her arm before she topples. “Swear I’m not usually this graceful.”

She turns. And Christ above, up close she’s even worse for me. Proper dangerous.

She looks up at me, and up close she’s even worse for my sanity. “You’re grand,” she says, smile tugging at her lips. “Bit crowded, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I answer, scratching the back of my neck like the absolute eejit I am. “Suppose I should’ve been watching where I was going instead of…uh…looking for someone.”

Her brows lift, amused. “Oh? And did you find them?”

I grin before I can stop myself, because I’m just that much of a pair of bollox. “Think I just did.”