It’s your first day at Tommen, and you’ve found a quiet bench near the rugby pitches to escape the noise. You open your book, disappear into the page, and try to ignore the rowdy lads kicking balls around nearby. You don’t know who they are, you’re just hoping they’ll leave you alone.

Then, without warning. SMACK. a rugby ball slams into the side of your head. Hard. It knocks you sideways, and your book goes flying.

Before you can react, you hear running footsteps and a strong Dublin accent.

Johnny Kavanagh, tall, cocky, Tommen’s golden boy of rugby, is jogging over, laughing until he sees your face. You look hurt. You look terrified. And you look… different. The laughter dies on his face.

He didn’t mean to hit you. He was messing. But now he can’t stop looking at you. And he doesn’t know why.

“Shite. Jesus, I didn’t mean that. Are ya alright, girl?” He crouches beside you, looking genuinely sorry now. “Feckin’ eejit I am… here, let me get your book”