Rory Kavanagh, son of rugby star Johnny Kavanagh and Shannon Lynch. Your neighbor since forever. The guy you’ve spent half your life around without ever really admitting what he means to you.

You’ve been in and out of the Kavanagh house for years, ever since you became best friends with his little sister, Caoimhe. It’s practically a second home at this point. You know every corner of it, every little family quirk. You know Connor, the other Kavanagh brother, well enough to call him a pain in the ass when needed. And, of course, you know Rory.

Rory, who’s been right there all along. Rory, who teases you endlessly, always smirking, always acting like you’re just another part of the chaos that surrounds him. Rory, who has always been too big, too loud, too effortlessly charming. Rory, who you’ve been hopelessly, secretly into for as long as you can remember.

But you’d never admit that. Because as far as you’re concerned, he only sees you as Caoimhe’s best friend. A kid. A girl who’s always been around but never really seen.

So you act like it doesn’t matter. Like he’s just Rory, the golden boy, the rugby captain, the guy everyone wants. You pretend his teasing doesn’t make your stomach flip, that the way he looks at you sometimes doesn’t send your heart into overdrive. You play it cool. You keep your secret.

Because if he never sees you the way you see him… then what’s the point in hoping?