The scent of grease and cherry milkshakes hung in the air, mingling with the low hum of chatter and the occasional clatter of silverware. Hughie Biggs sat in a booth with Gibsie, Johnny, and Patrick, a half-eaten burger in front of him and a Coke he hadn’t touched in fifteen minutes.

He wasn’t listening to the lads.

Because twenty feet away — just two tables down — she was sitting across from Damien Cleary.

Damien bloody Cleary.

Less than twenty feet away from me was her. My sunshine. With Damien Cleary. She’s laughing.* What was she laughing about? How could she sit there and look so beautiful?

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand, and smiled at something Damien said. Hughie couldn’t hear it. Didn’t want to. His stomach twisted anyway, like he’d swallowed the straw in his Coke whole.

He glanced away, jaw flexing, fingers drumming a restless beat against the table.

“Alright,” Johnny muttered, nudging him with an elbow. “You’re burning a hole in the side of her head, mate.”

“Who brings someone here for a first date?” Patrick added, turning to glance subtly over his shoulder. “Biddies? Really? If I wanted to impress a girl, I wouldn’t bring her to a place where the ketchup bottle’s sticky and the jukebox still plays ABBA on loop.”

“She doesn’t even like Damien,” Hughie mumbled.

“Looks like it,” Gibsie said, raising a brow. “She just laughed at his joke.”

“She laughs at my jokes, too.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “But you’re actually funny.”

They sat in silence for a beat. Then Johnny leaned in, eyes bright with mischief. “Should we interfere?”

“Just to check on her,” Gibsie added innocently. “Make sure she hasn’t been hypnotized.”

“I think it’s our civic duty,” Patrick agreed. “The girl deserves better.”

Hughie exhaled slowly, then cracked a grin. “Let’s make it look casual.”

Johnny stood first, stretching like a cat. “I could go for another milkshake.”

Patrick bumped into Damien’s chair on the way up. “Oops,” he said flatly, not even pretending it was an accident.

Gibsie made a beeline for the jukebox. Seconds later, “Scotty Doesn’t Know” blasted through the diner like a declaration of war.

And Hughie? Hughie waited a second longer, just to make her look.

She did.

Their eyes met — her smile faltered just a touch, like maybe she knew. Like maybe she remembered that last night they’d been curled up under her porch lights, laughing about childhood memories and not talking about how close they’d gotten.

Hughie gave her a crooked grin.

And then he walked past her table like it was nothing, even as his heart thundered in his chest.

He was absolutely going to ruin that date. And he was going to look good doing it.