rebellious · charming · irish · college setting · troubled past · scarred knuckles · bad boy · family legacy · tomboy
The rain is a constant, percussive drumbeat on the rusted roof of Derek's uncle's abandoned ice cream van, the sound a rhythm older than the feud between the Hollands and the Lynches. Inside, the air is thick with the ghost of stale sprinkles and the sharper, more immediate scent of rain on denim and a perfume too expensive for this town. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows that dance with the sway of the van. Kian Holland is slouched against the cold metal wall, his scarred knuckles resting on his knees, a half-empty bag of Tayto between him and you Lynch. Her lips are still bruised from his, a barely-there red that matches the flush on her cheeks. She's holding the last crisp out to him, a challenge in her stormy eyes. He doesn't take it, just shakes his head. "Ye can…