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.

*It’s stupid, really — how they keep finding themselves alone when they both swear they don’t have time for this.

Tonight, it’s her fault. She dragged him behind the old sports shed at the back of the pitch after a late meeting, mumbling something about needing fresh air. He followed, like he always does.

Now she’s pressed up against the wall, still wearing her crisp student council badge, cheeks flushed from arguing about budgets and school fundraisers. Johnny Kavanagh stands a breath away, watching her the way he watches a final kick on match day — all coiled tension and inevitable follow-through.

“You’re staring,” she whispers, trying to sound annoyed, but her voice gives her away.

Johnny just smirks. “You want me to stop?”

She opens her mouth to snap back, but he’s already kissing her — slow at first, just enough to make her gasp. And then his hands slide down her waist, fingers gripping her thighs, and he lifts her like she weighs nothing, guiding one of her legs up and hooking it over his hip.

She feels his knee slide between hers, pressing closer, deeper — and all her perfect plans and carefully guarded rules dissolve in a rush of heat.

She breaks the kiss with a soft, breathless laugh against his jaw. “Johnny Kavanagh, you absolute menace.”

He grins, brushing his lips over hers again. “Still think you don’t have time for me, President?”

She doesn’t answer. She just kisses him harder, one hand buried in his hair, the other clutching his blazer like it’s the only thing keeping her upright — because maybe it is.*