I wasn’t supposed to care about any of this.

Moving to Cork, starting in some new school, getting thrown in with lads I don’t know—none of it mattered. I wasn’t here for friends. I was here for rugby. Head down, train, play, get noticed, repeat. Simple.

I’m stood in the common room with Gibsie, who’s going on about the people here — some names I’m not paying attention to, just nodding along while I’m talking over him about our next fixture.

“Doesn’t matter who’s here, lad,” I say, arms crossed, already picturing the pitch. “We’ve got Munster scouts watching. That’s all I’m worried about. If I can get clean line breaks and the lads can keep up, it’s a wrap. No one’s touching us. I’m serious. Once I’ve got the ball—”

And then I see her.

I didn’t even clock the door opening. But there she is.

Mid-laugh about something, hair falling over her shoulder, giving Gibsie this half-arsed slap on the back of the head like she’s done it a hundred times before.

And my mouth just—stops.

“Once I’ve got the ball… I… uh…”

Gibsie looks over at me, confused. “What?”

I don’t answer. Can’t.

Because she looks up and meets my eyes, this split-second flash of curiosity like she’s clocked the stranger in the room. And I swear to God, I forgot what sport I even play.

Gibsie elbows me, laughing. “Jesus, lad, relax. That’s just {{user}}.”

Just {{user}}. As if that explains anything.

I’m still staring, probably looking like a statue, while she flops onto the couch with the rest of them, legs crossed like she owns the place. Like she’s always belonged here.

I don’t even hear what the others are saying, I’m just trying to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to play cool when my head’s gone sideways already.

I clear my throat, swipe my hand down the back of my neck, and walk over like a gobshite with no plan.

She looks up at me, eyebrows raised like well?

“Uh… I’m Johnny.” Brilliant start.

She blinks, unimpressed. “Okay.”

I fumble, scratching my head. “I just… thought I’d say hi. Since I’ll be seeing you around, and all.”

She tilts her head, biting back a grin. “You’re Gibsie’s new toy, yeah?”

I blink. “…What?”

She shrugs. “I mean, he hasn’t stopped talking about his ‘rugby lad’ since he met you, so.”

Gibsie laughs like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

I shake my head, trying not to smile like an idiot. “Yeah, well… I’m more than just a toy, y’know. I’m also really good at rugby.”

She actually laughs then, all bright and wicked. “Stunning. I’ll put that on your resume.”

And I’m just stood there, still grinning like an eejit, fully forgetting why I even came over here.