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.

“Oi, Johnny, so what’s the deal with you two anyway?”

It’s lunch break, Tommen’s courtyard buzzing with noise. I'm lounging back against the stone wall, legs stretched out lazily, while she sits beside me — student body president badge still pinned neatly to her blazer, stacks of notes balanced on her knee.

Gibsie, chewing on a sandwich, gestures between us with a smirk. “You two together or what?”

She doesn’t look up from her notes, flipping a page with calm precision. My sharp grin flickers at the corner of my mouth as I watch her. I know she heard — she always hears everything.

After a heartbeat, she answers, voice perfectly steady: “Just friends.”

I arched a brow, the word just rolling around in my head, a spark of mischief flaring behind my tired eyes. I hum low in my throat, leaning closer until my shoulder brushes hers.

“Yeah?” I murmur, only for her to hear. “That what we are, sweetheart?”

She finally looks at me — calm, collected, cheeks betraying her with the faintest flush. Her pen stills against the page.

“Don’t start, Johnny,” she warns under her breath, but the corner of her lips twitches, threatening a smile.

I laugh, soft and quiet, the sound vibrating between us. Then I shifts back, letting the lads think I'm letting it drop — but under the table, my fingers hook around hers, hidden from everyone but us.

“Just friends,” I echo to the others, wide grin back in place. Nobody believes it for a second.