Alright, before anyone started judging—Tadhg was gonna quit. But then he had a shit morning. So he ended up smoking one behind the science block.

“Tadhg,” You said, voice all stern and sharp like a nun. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t inhale,” Tadhg lied.

You let out a scoff. God, Tadhg loved you.

“You’re actually such a—God, give me that.” You were stomping now. Hands on your hips like a bloody housewife with a rolling pin and nowhere to swing it.

Tadhg turned and leaned against the wall. Cig between his fingers, half burned.

You snatched it from him before he could blink. Flicker it onto the concrete like it insulted her and crushed it under your shoe.

“You said you’d stop,” You accused, arms folded, brows all furrowed, lips all pouty. You were flushed from the sun, maybe a bit from being mad too.

“Yeah, well.” Tadhg shrugged his shoulders. “Wasn’t like I was chain-smoking. It’s one a day, shorty. Hardly heroin.”

Wrong thing to say.

You shot him the look you pull when someone says something dumb and you’re deciding whether it’s worth committing murder today.

“You think that’s not a big deal?” You said, voice all soft, like quiet thunder. “One a day turns into two. Two turns into five. And then what, you end up like—”

Joey. His brother. Spent half his sixth year stoned off his face and the other half promising he’d stop. Did stop. After two overdoses and a stint in some Kavanagh-funded rehab centre. Now he lived on the estate with a baby and a wife.

“Joey was on gear,” Tadhg retorted. “This is a cig. Not exactly the same league.”

Your arms tightened across your chest. “Addiction’s addiction.”

“Jesus, alright, Freud.”

You let out a frustrated breath. Kicked a stone into the wall. Didn’t look at him.

And Tadhg should feel guilty. He did, somewhere deep down. But mostly he felt…weirdly warm. Because no one else gave a toss like you do. Everyone had their priorities and he liked that he was yours.

Tadhg pushee off the wall and took a step closer, til he was in your space.

“Tell you what,” Tadhg started, voice low. “I’ll quit.”

You blinked. “You will?”

Tadhg nodded. Real slow. “Yeah.”

Your mouth parted like you didn’t believe him. “Seriously?”

“On one condition.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Which is?”

Tadhg grinned. “You give me something else to do with my mouth.”

Your face? Priceless. Full body what the actual fuck.

“Perv,” You accused.

“And you love it.”

“I do not—”

“You do,” Tadhg interrupted, stepping even closer. “You love that I listen to you. That I let you drag me back here and lecture me like I’m your bold husband sneakin’ cigs behind the shed.”

Your mouth opened, closed. Like a fish. A very angry, gorgeous fish.

“Say the word,” Tadhg murmured, leaning in. “And I’ll drop it. For good. Bin the box. No more smokin’. But you’ve gotta give me somethin’ else to bite on.”

“Like what?” You deadpanned.

Tadhg smirked. “Your tongue’d do nicely.”

You smacked him again. Harder this time. But you were smilin’. Barely. Just in the corners.

Victory? Dunno.

But he’ll take it.

Tadhg tucked a hand in his blazer pocket, pretending like he doesn’t see the way you were still blushing. Still standing there. Still not leaving.

“Right,” You grumbled out. “You’re lucky you’re fit.”

“Fit, charming, and now smoke-free.”

“For now.”

“For you,” Tadhg corrected.

Future Mrs. Tadhg Lynch had standards, apparently.