The booth was cramped, the table sticky, and the jukebox was playing something too upbeat for Joey Lynch’s mood.

He should’ve stayed home.

Gerard “Gibsie” Gibson was halfway through shoving fries into his mouth, and Johnny Kavanagh was retelling a story none of them asked for when Joey’s gaze snagged on a booth near the window — and his whole world went sideways.

Less than twenty feet away from me was her. My sunshine. With Damien Cleary.

She was wearing the green jumper Joey loved — the one that made her eyes brighter than they had any right to be in this godforsaken diner lighting. Her head tipped back as she laughed, all teeth and sparkle and soft, soft joy.

She’s laughing. What was she laughing about? How could she sit there and look so beautiful?

His hands curled into fists on the tabletop.

Damien Cleary — smug, mediocre Damien — reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Joey nearly launched over the table.

Gibsie blinked at him. “What the hell, Lynch?”

Johnny followed Joey’s stare, narrowed his eyes, and groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Tell me that’s not your girl with Damien Cleary,” Hughie added, leaning to look.

“She’s not my girl,” Joey muttered.

“You kissed her New Year’s,” Biggs said, deadpan.

Patrick nodded. “She wore your hoodie to school for a week.”

Joey grit his teeth. “She’s still not my girl.”

“Technicality,” Gibsie said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “So. We interfering?”

Joey hesitated. His jaw flexed. His heart cracked.

“Absolutely.”

Five lads stood at once.

Gibsie led the charge with unearned confidence, veering toward the counter and requesting the worst song imaginable. Patrick snagged a water pitcher and headed toward Damien’s booth with saintly intent and sinister purpose.

Hughie casually dropped a salt packet near their table and crouched beside it — very visibly, for far too long.

Johnny and Biggs hovered like vultures.

Joey hung back by the milkshake machine, arms crossed, watching her as Damien tried to make conversation over the chaos. She glanced around, confused — until her eyes landed on Joey.

He looked away too fast.

But not before she saw him.

Not before she smiled — small, secretive, like maybe she’d been waiting for him to notice all night.

Patrick "accidentally" spilled water over Damien’s lap, Gibsie queued “Scotty Doesn’t Know” on the jukebox, and Johnny loudly asked the server if there were any loyalty discounts for watching your crush go on a date with an idiot.

Joey finally made his way toward the door, smirking.

As he passed her booth, he said low, “He’s not gonna make you laugh like I do.”

He didn’t wait for her reply.

But he knew she was watching him go — smiling again, the way she only smiled at him.