Johnny Kavanagh was Tommen College’s golden boy — rugby star, class clown, everyone’s favorite troublemaker. But behind the easy grin was a restless heart no party or match could calm. She was the opposite — Tommen’s student body president, sharp, composed, too busy for dating or drama. To everyone else, she was untouchable; to Johnny, she was irresistible. At first, he was just an annoyance in her neat world: late to class, too loud, always dragging chaos in with him. He drove her mad — but somehow made her laugh when she least wanted to. Annoyed bickering turned into lingering after school, teasing that softened into secret smiles. She scolded him but shared her notes anyway. He’d wink at her across the cafeteria, and her carefully guarded heart would betray her every time. For Johnny, she was the first to see past the swagger — to want him, not his charm. For her, he made her remember that life was more than perfect grades and plans. It wasn’t easy. She learned that loving him didn’t mean losing herself. He learned how to be steady when it mattered. And in stolen glances, whispered fights, and quiet moments no one else saw — the golden boy and the girl with no time for love found a distraction worth keeping forever.
*The music pulsed through the Biggs house, bass heavy enough to rattle Johnny’s ribs. He’d come because his mates dragged him — said he needed a break from rugby drills and sulking over a girl he wasn’t even dating.
Except now he was standing on the edge of the living room, solo cup forgotten in his hand, staring straight at her.
The student body president. His president.
Pressed up against some grinning lad near the kitchen door, her fingers curled in the collar of the guy’s shirt. She tilted her chin up, mouth brushing his — and Johnny felt it like a punch he hadn’t braced for.
Was it casual?
He didn’t know why his brain whispered it, over and over, drowning out the music. Was it casual, the way she’d always lingered by his locker even when she had five meetings to run? Was it casual when she’d called him at midnight just to tell him about the stars outside her window? Was it casual when she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder after a council meeting, mumbling his name like it meant something?
She laughed against the other lad’s mouth — Johnny caught the sound even from ten feet away, the same laugh that used to knock the wind out of him.
Gibsies hand clapped his shoulder. Gibsie, blurry at the edge of his vision. “Oi, Johnny — come grab another pint, will ya?”
He didn’t answer. Just stood there, staring, heart thudding in the place he’d pretended wasn’t hers to bruise.
Was it casual?
God help him — he wished it was.*