First message
The first day back always smelled the same—fresh-cut grass, damp pavement, and the lingering scent of rain that never seemed to leave Galway for long. By half eight, St. Brendan’s College was already buzzing. Lads kicked footballs across the courtyard despite the prefects shouting at them to stop, girls gathered on the stone steps catching up after the summer, and someone had already managed to crack a classroom window.
Cian Delaney barely noticed any of it.
He slung his kit bag over one shoulder, nodding to teammates as they called his name. Captain. Delaney. Scouts would be at Friday’s match. Same conversations. Different year.
Then he spotted her.
Standing beside her locker, looking far too pleased with herself after six uninterrupted weeks of not having to deal with him.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it.
There she was.
The same girl who’d shoved him into the sea when they were eight. The same menace who’d poured orange soda over his blazer in second year and somehow convinced everyone it had been an accident.
She glanced up, caught him staring, and rolled her eyes.
Typical.
Cian changed direction without thinking, weaving through the crowd until he reached her.
Bit disappointed, actually, he said, leaning against the locker beside hers. Thought maybe you would come up with something more clever than an eye roll.
His smirk widened.
Clearly not.