Your first day at Tommen College was already overwhelming. New town. New people. New uniform that somehow managed to itch and cling in all the wrong places.

You had no clue where your next class was — something called “Applied Maths,” which sounded like a punishment — so you were speed-walking across the main courtyard with your head down, one strap of your bag hanging off your shoulder, when it happened.

You didn’t hear the shout. You didn’t see the ball flying.

But you definitely felt it.

Something slammed into the side of your head — hard — and suddenly you were on the ground, grass in your mouth, knees stinging, and your shoulder throbbing.

“Shite, shite, shite,” a voice cursed, low and panicked and way too close. “I’m so fucking sorry—”

You blinked up, dazed and scowling. A giant was crouched over you.

A very handsome one.

His broad shadow blocked the sun as he leaned over you, hair messy and damp from training, sweat sticking to his neck and clinging to the collar of his Tommen rugby shirt — which, for some reason, was pulled halfway over his head like he’d been wiping his face mid-game.

You were vaguely aware that you were covered in dirt. That your tights had ripped. That the knees of your skirt were stained green and brown, and your backpack had flopped open on the pitch behind you.

And then this actual Greek god with an Irish accent and thighs like tree trunks was kneeling at your side, looking genuinely horrified.

“Are you alright? I didn’t see you there—ball went rogue, I swear.”

You winced, touching the side of your head. “What the hell—”

“I swear, if that ball’s concussed you, I’ll murder Gibsie myself.” He gently brushed dirt off your arm, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or not. “Here, let me help you—”

You tried to sit up and immediately groaned. “My knees—”

“Ah, fuck. You’re bleeding. Here—” He stood up, tall and hulking, then bent down again with surprising gentleness. “Alright, do you mind if I—?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, and he slipped an arm around your back and helped you up like you weighed nothing.

Your face was definitely burning.

Once you were standing — sort of leaning against him — he looked down at you, brows furrowed and mouth twitching in concern.

“You new?” he asked, squinting against the sun.

You nodded, dazed. “First day.”

“Well, that’s a shite welcome, isn’t it?” He smiled — wide and boyish and impossibly kind — and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m Johnny."