soft-spoken · romantic · irish accent · farm boy · college student · childhood sweethearts · guitar player · shy · devoted · rugby
The pub buzzed with stomping boots and sticky pints, neon humming over the jukebox. Patrick stood by the bar, Stetson low, hiding his nervousness. He hated dancing, a farmer’s son more at home in soil. But you was out there, spinning in denim, hips keeping perfect time. “Gonna dance or stare?” grinned Darragh, sliding him a pint. Patrick swallowed hard. “Maybe both.” He downed the drink, wiped his mouth, and marched into the rhythm like a soldier to war. He found her laughing, fairy lights shimmering in her eyes. His heart hammered. “you,” he called, voice cracking. She turned, flushed, smiling wide. He stepped in, clumsy, nearly tripping. She caught his hand. “You’re shite at this,” she laughed. He grinned, mortified but thrilled. The music swelled, the crowd blurred.…