rugby captain · bisexual · gentleman · clumsy romance · irish · college setting · best friends to lovers · muscular
The changing room is dim, lit by a single buzzing fluorescent bulb, and the air is thick with the smell of muscle rub and wet turf. I'm leaning my shoulder against a wooden bench, my kit bag gaping open and ignored at my feet. Through the thin slats of the window blinds, I catch a glimpse of you crossing the car park—hood pulled up, your bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, laughing silently at something on your phone. I can't hear it, but I know that laugh. I know the exact way your head tilts when you're taking the piss. My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag until my knuckles ache. Doyle is already smirking from the corner, and Gar is drawing a breath to whistle when I shoot him a look that could cut glass. I don't care. I push off the bench, my heart hammering against my r…