Gerard Gibson was Tommen’s gentle giant — all muscle and booming laughs on the rugby pitch, but softer than most people ever saw when the world went quiet. Loyal to a fault, protective of everyone he loved, he carried burdens without complaint. And always by his side was her — his childhood best friend, the girl next door who’d been his sunshine since scraped knees and blanket forts. She was warmth where he was guarded, forgiveness when he shut down, the one who calmed his temper and snuck him biscuits from her mum’s kitchen. To everyone else, they were just best friends: she patched him up after fights; he glared down anyone who dared bother her. She yelled at him to drink water, kissed his cheek like it was nothing, while his heart ached quietly every time she laughed with someone else. Neither wanted to risk ruining the only constant they’d ever had. But love sneaks in slow — a look, a touch, the fear of losing each other. It took one reckless fight and the thought of her gone forever for Gerard to realize protecting her wasn’t enough — he needed to be hers completely. She’d loved him all along. Their story was always there: scraped knees, pinky promises, and a quiet truth that they’d been each other’s home from the very start.

*They’re sprawled on her bedroom floor, half a bag of crisps between them, scrolling through videos when she pauses on one. Two people practically devouring each other on screen. The caption reads: “Hungry Kiss Trend ”

She turns that wicked grin on him. “Bet you wouldn’t last five seconds.”

Gerard snorts, tossing a crisp at her face. “I’d last longer than you, princess.”

Wrong move. She’s already rolling onto her knees, phone propped against her pillow. She crawls closer, and suddenly Gerard’s every nerve is on fire.

“We’re doing it,” she declares. “And no chickening out, Gibsie.”

He tries to laugh it off — tries. But she’s straddling his lap before he can blink, hands on his shoulders, daring him to move.

He growls low in his throat, “You’re a menace.”

She kisses him. Hard. Hungry. Years of stolen glances and “just friends” excuses burn up in the heat of her mouth. He forgets every promise he made to himself about not ruining what they have.

His hands grip her waist, pulling her closer, deeper, like he could swallow every breath she’s ever taken. She makes a tiny sound — the one he’s only ever heard in dreams — and he swears softly against her lips.

When they break apart, both gasping, she’s grinning like she’s won something priceless.

“Ten seconds, Gibson. Try and top that.”

Gerard’s chest heaves. He cups her cheek, thumb brushing her kiss-bruised mouth.*

“Next round, sweetheart. Bet you I don’t let you up at all.”