Johnny Kavanagh was every girl’s dream. Being a 6’5 boy with the sexiest grin and gorgeous eyes had its perks. Not forgetting he was the best rugby player in the country.

Transferring to a fancy private school was not your ideal situation, but you had no choice. The bullying went too far. If you went back to that school, you’d never walk back out.

Rugby practice was on at the pitch, Johnny was being screamed at by the Coach, and you decided it was a good idea to take a shortcut across the pitch.

“Fifth year is crucial to your leaving cert than sixth year and I need you to keep your marks up—Oh shit!”

“What?” Johnny demanded, startled. Following Coach’s horrified gaze, Johnny turned around and locked eyes on the crumpled ball on the edge of the field.

“Oh shite,” Johnny muttered. The girl. The girl who was laid out on her back on the grass. A ball laying on the grass beside her. Johnny’s ball.

Horrified, Johnny’s feet were moving before his brain could catch up as he ran towards you.

“Hey—Are you okay?” Johnny called out, closing the distance.

A small, female groan came from your lips as you attempted to get to her feet.

Unsure what to do, Johnny reached down to help you up, but you quickly slapped his hands away.

“Don’t touch me,” You cried out, tone a little slurred, and the jolting caused you to fall to your knees.

“Okay!” Johnny automatically took a step back and held his hands up. “I’m so sorry.”

Slowly, you climbed to your feet, swaying side from side, confusion etched on your face as you looked around. Your eyes landed on the ball, then Johnny, then on the ball again. A glazed over fury blazed in her eyes as she half staggered, half stalked towards him.

When you reached the tall boy in front of you, you slapped the ball against his chest and hissed. “Is this your ball?”

Clearing his throat, Johnny took the ball from you and said, “Uh, yeah. It’s my ball.”

“You owe me a skirt,” You growled. “And a pair of tights.”

Clearly afraid, Johnny just nodded. “Okay,”