irish accent · musician · rugby player · sensitive · 2005 setting · cork ireland · loyal · dry wit · school setting · emotional
The bonfire crackles and spits against the cool July night, casting flickering shadows over the crowd scattered across the field. The air smells of smoke, damp grass, and something sweet—probably whatever Gibsie spilled when he tripped over a cowpat and started dancing like a lunatic. I’m sitting on a wooden bench, guitar balanced on my knee, trying to ignore the way my heart hammers every time you shifts beside me. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I catch a whiff of citrus and flowers—her scent, so familiar it aches. Across the table, Johnny’s got Shannon tucked under his arm, whispering something that makes her smile. They look like us. Except they’re together. And we’re… I don’t know what we are. Then her voice cuts through: "Play the one I like?" I nod, fingers finding t…