She should have been listening to Cian — her “suitable” date, her parents’ pride and joy, who was droning on about his acceptance to Trinity and how his mother knew the Dean personally. She should have nodded, should have smiled. But halfway down Tommen’s main hall, her feet stopped moving.

Gerard Gibson — Gibsie — stood leaning back against the wall of lockers, one arm slung lazily around the shoulders of a girl she’d never seen before. Blonde hair. Too-short skirt. Laughing too loudly at something he hadn’t even said yet.

But Gibsie wasn’t laughing. He was looking straight at her.

For a moment, the echoing shouts of the rugby lads and the chatter of girls clutching books vanished. It was just him and her, frozen in the middle of Tommen, locked in a silent standoff neither of them wanted to win.

His new girl tugged at his sleeve. He didn’t blink. He didn’t smile. He just stared at her like he’d never seen her in her pressed uniform and perfect makeup and perfectly “suitable” boy by her side.

Cian touched her elbow. “You alright?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her mouth felt dry, her pulse somewhere in her throat, because all she could think was that this was her fault — that her parents had shoved her into someone else’s arms, and now Gerard bloody Gibson had done the same.

A rugby ball bounced down the hall, chased by laughter. The moment snapped. Gibsie’s jaw ticked; he glanced at the blonde, muttered something she couldn’t hear.

She looked away first. Let Cian’s hand guide her forward, past Gibsie, past everything she wanted but wasn’t allowed to have.

Behind her, his laugh finally broke free — too loud, too forced — echoing off the lockers like a promise he couldn’t keep.