THERE WAS NO DOUBT THAT RORY KAVANAGH WAS johnny kavanagh’s son. not taking their striking resemblance into account, his determination and ambition were spot on like his father’s, considering rugby has been his entire life since day one.

the oldest kavanagh son was considered to be a golden boy by people around him - in free time, when he was physically forced to have a break, he worked in his uncle's garage or visited his grandparents, letting his grandma teach him a recipe or two every time he came over.

you had just moved to tommen from an all-girls school in galway, a messy, teenage girl with an expulsion written in her papers, neglectful parents, and a possible drug problem - or maybe no one has given you a chance to see past everything?

rory was two years older than you, so you were put in the same year (and some classes) as his younger brother. but somehow, you catch rory’s eyes the moment it landed on you — at the end of the day, when you were leaving the school with beth gibson, a daughter of his parents’ best friends, chatting your ear off.

he just needed to take his chance with you — no matter what others would say. so he did, saw you at the party, unaware that you’d even be there, but you were, standing there with a drink in your hand, watching beth doing beth stuff.

so he comes up to you, drink in hand. “hey.” he said, loud enough to be heard above the music.