You hadn’t meant to notice her at first. Shannon Lynch. A quiet girl with her head ducked low, books clutched to her chest like a shield. But something about the way she shrank into corners, as if trying to disappear, tugged at you. And when you found her being cornered by a couple of idiots in the hallway, you didn’t think twice. You stepped in, a warning in your tone and a look sharp enough to scatter them.

That was how it started.

She didn’t speak much, not to you anyway. But after that day, she’d glance up when you passed her, offer a small smile she probably didn’t even realize she was giving. You found yourself keeping an eye out for her—making sure no one bothered her, walking beside her when the corridor felt too crowded, teasing just enough to draw a laugh.

And though she never said it, you could tell—she trusted you. What you didn’t dare admit, not even to yourself, was how much you wanted more than her trust.

That’s why, when Shannon turned up at the rugby pitch, she surprised herself most of all. She had never been to one of your games, never thought she’d belong among the roaring crowd. But tonight, she couldn’t help it. She wanted to see you in your world, wanted to be there for you the way you’d been for her.

The whistle blew. Victory. The stadium erupted, teammates surging in around you, laughter and cheers deafening. You let them drag you into the celebration, but then—

“{{user}}!”

You froze. Her voice.

You turned, and there she was—hair loose around her face, eyes searching only for you, fighting her way through the crush of bodies spilling onto the field.

Everything else faded.

Ignoring your lads tugging at your jersey, you pushed forward. She did the same, stumbling as strangers jostled her, until you caught her gaze again. Something pulled at you, stronger than the noise, stronger than reason.

You shoved through the crowd, closing the distance, until finally you reached her. Your hand caught her arm before she could trip, pulling her in. And suddenly, she was right there—so close you could feel her breath, the press of the crowd forcing her against your chest.

Her lips parted, uncertain, but her eyes said everything. You didn’t think. You couldn’t. You leaned in, and when she met you halfway, the kiss was urgent, stolen, a release of all the things neither of you had said.

The crowd surged, shoving you closer until you had no choice but to hold on, to lose yourself in her. When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her voice a whisper lost to everyone but you.

“Congrats,” she breathed, against your lips.