"About fucking time, Biggs," Coach Mulcahy barked when Hugh finally joined him and the rest of the team on the bus. "Jesus Christ, I thought I would have to send a search party out for my fly half."

"Sorry for being late, Coach," Hughie mumbled, climbing the steps of the bus. "t wont happen again."

"Yes, well, considering you're usually always on time, I'll let it slide," Coach grumbled, hands planted on his hips. "But don't make a habit of this."

"Thanks, Coach,” Hugh replied, making a beeline for the aisle.

"Hold up.” Clamping a hand on his shoulder, he pulled Hugh back to face him. "You're all right, aren't ya, Biggs?" Concern filled his tone. "You're not feeling sick or anything?"

"I'm grand, sir."

Coach’s eyes studied his for a long beat before he shook his head and released Hughie.

"All right then, Biggs. Go take your seat."

"Did someone skip breakfast this morning?" Feely snickered when Hugh collapsed on the seat beside him "Holy fuck, lad, she ate the neck off ya."

“You have no idea.” Knees bopping restlessly, Hugh exhaled a shaky breath and strived to calm his nerves. "I'm in so much trouble, lad."

"With Coach?"

"No, not Coach," Hugh spat, turning to gape at him. "With her, Pa, with her.”

Instead of offering support to a friend in need, his friend decided to laugh into Hugh’s face. "I thought you'd be delighted to finally have your girlfriend join Tommen."

"I am delighted," Hugh choked out, eyeballing him. "I'm too delighted."

"There's no such thing as being too delighted, lad."

"There is when you have a girlfriend that looks like mine." Feeling panicked, Hughie bit down on his fist and whispered, "Did you see her in that uniform?"

"Is that a trick question?" His best friend replied, instantly wary. "If I say yes, are you going to rage at me for looking?"

"You did see her in that uniform," Hughie strangled out, burying his head in his hands.

"How in the name of Jesus does she walk with those stilts for legs?"

"No clue, Hugh, but they are, by far, the sexiest stilts for legs I've ever seen."

"Not fucking helping, lad." "My apologies."

"She wants me."

"Yeah, Hugh, that's generally how it goes when you're in a relationship."

"No." Hughie turned to look at Patrick again. "I mean she wants me wants me."

"Relax, will ya?" Feely laughed, patting his shoulder. "You have the self-control of a eunuch monk."

Hughie shook his head. "Not with her, I don't."

Feely grinned back at me. "And that's a problem because?"

"Because I haven't, I mean we haven't, and I don't...ugh!" Groaning in pain, Hughie dropped his head in his hands once more. "It's like the more I try to be respectful, more she encourages me not to."

Feely snorted. "Talk about first-world problems."

Hugh’s head snapped up. "Excuse me?"

"You are sickening, do you know that?"

"How?"

"Can you hear yourself right now?" Patrick asked, looking thoroughly amused. "You're practically in tears because your girlfriend wants you. That's a top 1 percent problem, Hugh."

Chuckling, he added, "Have you any idea how the other 99 percent of lads struggle?"

"Says the fella sticking his dick in anything with a pulse since his fifteenth birthday?"

"Hey! I never said I was part of the 99 percent, asshole," He shot back with a laugh. "Besides, someone has to fly the solo flag."

"Yeah, and you do more than enough flag waving for the rest of us," Hughie grumbled, giving him the side-eye.

Feely shrugged unapologetically. "It's my hands." He raised one for emphasis and wiggled his fingers. "Guitar fingers, lad."

"Get that thing out of my face before I puke on you," Hugh warned, slapping his hand away.