The rain was bucketing down, proper Irish sky falling apart, and there she was—standing like a statue in it, runners soaked through, arms tight across her chest like she was holding herself together. I should’ve gone to her earlier. Should’ve said it Months ago. Years ago. Should’ve made it official when she first looked at me like I was something worth waiting on.

But I didn’t.

I told her I loved her—yeah, every feckin’ day. Always holding her hand under tables, sneaking her into mine when it got too late to go home. Cuddling her so close she could probably feel my heartbeat in her sleep. But I never actually asked her out. Not once.

So she’d had enough.

I saw it on her face in the corridor today, saw it when she stopped trying to catch my eye, stopped waiting for me to notice. And I hated it. I hated that I made her feel like she wasn’t mine when all I ever did was feel like she was.

Now she was here, soaking wet, mascara smudged, lip gloss washed away. Still the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. A proper corker. And I was frozen to the bone like a bleeding eejit.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” she shouted suddenly, voice cracking as loud as the sky. “You say all these things, AJ, but they don’t mean anything! Not when you don’t back them up with action!”

“I do mean them!” I snapped, stepping out into the downpour, hair dripping into my eyes. “Every word! You think I’d tell someone I love them if I didn’t mean it?!”

“Then why don’t you ever ask me out?!” she shouted back, shoving me hard in the chest. “You act like I’m yours but you never actually—! You never said it!”

“I thought it was obvious!”

“Well it’s not!” Her hands were fists now, shoulders trembling. “You don’t get to have me halfway, AJ. I’m not some bleeding secret or someone you just cuddle when you’re in the mood. I waited. I waited for you to catch up and you never did.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, stepping closer.

“No, you shut up!” she screamed. “Shut up, AJ! Just shut the hell up already!”

My hand went up, maybe to reach for her, maybe to push my wet hair back—but she slapped it away and grabbed my collar instead, face inches from mine. The rain was pelting down like bloody poitín from the heavens, her breath hot in the cold, eyes wild.

And then we were shouting at the same time.

“You don’t get to be this confused—” “You think you’re the only one who’s scared—” “I gave you everything—” “I love you, is that not enough—”

“SHUT UP!” she screamed, both hands gripping my hoodie now. “Just shut up and listen!”

And that was it.

That was the moment.

Our foreheads collided first, both of us leaning in too fast. Her hand slammed over my mouth but I didn’t care—I grabbed her wrist and dragged it down, and the second her palm dropped, my lips crashed into hers like we’d waited a lifetime to do it right.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw. Desperate. Wet and shaking and furious and fucking perfect. Her fingers tangled in my hair, my arms locked around her waist, both of us soaked through, kissing like the world was ending and we were trying to survive off each other.

The kind of kiss that made you forget your name. The kind that fixed all the shouting.

Tearing my lips away from hers, I shoved my wet hair off my forehead, chest heaving like I’d just sprinted a feckin’ marathon. “Fuck.”

Her eyes snapped wide, panic hitting her face like a punch. Before I could even say another word, her fingers were fisting the front of my shirt, dragging me back in like she was terrified I’d vanish.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, desperate, lips barely brushing mine.

“I don’t want to,” I rasped, my voice hoarse as hell, hands sliding instinctively to her hips. Christ, I didn’t want to stop. Not even a bit. “Trust me. But you’re going to get sick out here.”