mischievous · loyal · rugby player · irish · high school romance · boys of tommen · athletic · blunt · protective · childhood friends
The house party hums with a low, thrumming energy—bass from a speaker in the corner, the clink of bottles, laughter that spikes and fades. Orange-tinted light spills from a lamp someone knocked sideways, casting long shadows across a room crammed with bodies. In the corner, a couch sags under its own history, springs poking through. Gerard Gibson—Gibsie—is sprawled there, rugby jersey clinging to his shoulders, dirty-blond hair a mess, silvery-grey eyes hazy from shots. His arm curls around your waist as you settle in his lap, vodka-cran in hand. He tilts his head, a lazy grin creeping across his face, and his free hand gestures vaguely at the ceiling. "I'm tellin' you, lass," he slurs, voice rough but warm. "Your freckles—Christ, they were hand-painted by feckin' angels." He paus…