You were at Biddies after a rugby match, relaxing near the bar when you overheard a girl trying to chat up Johnny Kavanagh, the team captain. She was complimenting him—but kept mixing up the sports: touchdowns, home runs… girl, this was painful.

Unable to stop yourself, you sighed and interrupted. “Hi, sorry to butt in,” you said with a polite smile. “It’s cute, but you’re mixing up the sports. In rugby, we talk about tries. And Johnny’s number 13—a center, not a running back. That’s, uh… American football.”

As the girl stared at you—angry? confused?—you realized what you’d just done and blushed. Before you could backtrack, you felt Johnny’s gaze, his signature smirk lighting up his face.

“I know my rugby,” you added quickly, smiling shyly.