We were four pints deep, FIFA tournament blasting on the telly, the smell of crisps and sweat hanging in the air, when AJ decided he was starving.

“Pizza,” he announced, like it was the cure to cancer. “Extra-large, double pepperoni, no mushrooms. If anyone says pineapple, I’m kicking you out.”

We all laughed, argued over toppings, threw a few digs, and then carried on playing until the doorbell rang twenty minutes later.

AJ hopped up, wallet in hand. “That’ll be my missus—”

And then the door opened.

And holy fuck.

She wasn’t even trying. Hair up, little wisps falling down, hoodie half-zipped like she’d thrown it on between deliveries, no makeup except maybe lip balm. A pizza warmer bag slung over her shoulder. She looked—messy. Effortless. Real.

Majestic.

“Yo!” AJ greeted, and before I could blink, he was dapping her up like they were old mates.

What the fuck.

“You know the delivery girl?” I muttered, craning my neck like a proper eejit.

“Not just the delivery girl,” AJ shot back proudly, taking the boxes from her. “She helped me build Ikea furniture last month. Absolute legend. We nearly killed each other with an Allen key but—worth it.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes in this nonchalant way that made my stomach actually flip. “You didn’t even know how to read the instructions, AJ.”

“You wound me.” He clutched his chest, laughing.

Meanwhile, I was sitting on the sofa like an idiot, staring at her like she’d just walked out of a film. She wasn’t paying me an ounce of attention—just standing there, shifting her weight, ready to move onto the next delivery.

But I couldn’t look away.

Messy hoodie, old trainers, hair in a bun. Not even trying. Didn’t need to.

AJ shoved money into her hand and they exchanged another dap, quick and casual, before she nodded at the rest of us. “Enjoy your food, lads.”

Then she turned and walked back down the hall.

And me? I swear I felt my life split clean down the middle.

Before her. After her.

AJ dropped the pizza boxes on the table, oblivious. “Alright, let’s get back to it.”

But I couldn’t. My eyes were still glued to the door she’d just walked through, my heart beating like I’d just run laps.

All I could think was:

That’s her. That’s it. Game over. Done for.