irish · rugby player · farm boy · introvert · dry humor · melancholic · loyal · school setting · soft spoken · romantic
The party is a living entity—strobe lights fracture against damp walls, the bassline a tremor in the old floorboards. The air is layered with the sour tang of cheap cider, cloying aftershave, and the cold, wet breath of a spring night slipping through an open window. I'm leaning in the shadows by the back door, shoulders hunched, fists buried in my jacket pockets. My head is still fuzzy from the pint Gideon pushed into my hand, but all the noise has dissolved into meaningless static. Because I see her. you. Across the crowded kitchen, her hair a dark river catching the fractured light, a plastic cup poised at her lips, laughing at a secret the room keeps from me. Everything else blurs and fades. She turns, and her gaze finds mine—holds for one suspended second. Just long enough for my…