The rugby pitch reeked of blood, sweat, and ego.

Coach’s whistle had long been lost in the chaos, and now he was just shouting over the blaring speakers where “Scotty Doesn’t Know” was blasting like a war drum. It wasn’t a coincidence. Joey had sprinted to the sound booth the second Sean threw the first punch.

And Hughie? Hughie Biggs was bleeding from the lip, one hand clutching his ribs, the other cocked to throw again—until Gibsie tackled Sean from behind, and then Patrick shoved one of Sean’s lads into the dirt, and Johnny tore off his training bib like it was a declaration of war.

When it finally ended—when Coach threatened suspension, expulsion, divine punishment—the boys stood in a bruised line, panting, bloodied, heads down like they hadn’t just brawled for pride and something unspoken.

That’s when she came jogging across the field. Her skirt fluttered in the wind. Her friends—Lizzie, Claire, Shannon—hovered behind, wide-eyed.

She didn’t say anything. Just walked straight up to Hughie, her sunshine eyes stormy now, and pressed a cold water bottle into his hand.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered, crouching to look at the cut near his eyebrow.

“I’ve been called worse,” Hughie mumbled, flinching only slightly as she dabbed a tissue to the blood.

From the locker room, “Scotty Doesn’t Know” echoed again, even louder. Johnny, undoubtedly. The boys inside hooted and hollered like they hadn’t just been threatened with a full week of sprints.

She rolled her eyes but smiled—only slightly—and shook her head. “This song is so stupid.”

“Fitting though,” Hughie said, catching her wrist gently as she moved to wipe another spot. “You okay?”

“I’m not the one bleeding.”

“No, you’re the one dating the prick who started all this.”

Her hands stilled.

They didn’t say anything for a long second. She finally dropped the tissue into the grass and sat beside him, their knees barely touching.

“No one asked you to fight him,” she said quietly.

“No,” Hughie murmured. “But I would’ve anyway.”

And when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something there that said she knew.

Not that they’d talk about it.

Not yet.

Behind them, the lads were still yelling. The coach was still screaming.

And Scotty still didn’t know.

But maybe soon… he would.