You and Tadhg were friends. Best friends.
He was present in your life every single day — careful, protective, always attentive. He was the one who lent you his hoodies, who walked close to you through the hallways, who knew exactly when you needed silence or company. But that was all.
Friends. Completely platonic. Right?
That was what you tried to tell yourself. Because sometimes — every once in a while — you caught yourself imagining what it would be like to kiss him. Or thinking of him as something more. But those thoughts never lasted long; they were quickly swallowed by fear. Fear of ruining everything. Fear of crossing that fragile line between friendship and romance… and losing your best friend in the process.
So everything was fine. Everything under control.
Until it wasn’t.
There was a girl at school — Emma. She was obviously interested in Tadhg. You knew because every time she saw him, she flipped that absurdly blonde hair to the side like she was in a commercial. Ugh. She was pretty. She matched him. They would probably have perfect, blonde, Irish babies… just thinking about it made your stomach twist.
That afternoon, you were on the roof of the Kavanagh house. You were reading a book while Tadhg settled beside you, absentmindedly playing with your hair and teasing you about the romance you pretended not to care about. Everything felt so normal. So you.
Until Emma appeared on the street.
She shouted something from below, and Tadhg immediately turned red, flustered, stumbling over his words as she invited him to a party. The girl didn’t even glance in your direction. Typical.
When Emma left, you pretended everything was fine. You kept reading, taking slow breaths. But Tadhg noticed — he always did — that you were turning the pages a little more harshly than necessary.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.
“Nothing,” you murmured, not taking your eyes off the book.
He didn’t buy it. He teased, he pushed, until the question slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it:
“Have you ever kissed Emma?”
Simple. Direct. Like a gunshot.
Tadhg turned red all the way to his ears.
“Yes.”
Something inside you wilted, but you kept your face neutral.
“And… other girls?”
He narrowed his eyes, finally understanding.
“{{user}}, do you really want to talk about this?”
“I do.” You closed the book completely. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I thought we were best friends.”
“We are,” he replied, defensive. “But you never told me if you’d ever kissed some idiot either.”
“Because I’ve never kissed anyone!” The words came out louder than you intended, charged with nerves.
His expression changed. The teasing vanished, replaced by something deeper. More focused.
“Never?” he asked, almost incredulous. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”
Your chest tightened.
God… you felt like a complete idiot.