[COMPLETED BUT WONT LET ME PRESS THE COMPLETED BUTTON AHAHHA]
Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's be...
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Gerard Gibson was turning into a master of evasion. It was like he had this sixth sense for dodging me all day at school, slipping out of sight every time I thought I'd caught him. And it was driving me insane. Every passing minute without talking to him felt like my chest was tightening, squeezing with the weight of everything I needed to say.
After eighty minutes of grueling physical exertion, our school's rugby team had crushed St. Andrews, leaving the pitch victorious with a brutal score of 64–3. Gibsie had played brilliantly, even spending ten minutes in the sin bin for a tactical foul. But as soon as the final whistle blew, I couldn't care less about the game. My only focus was him.
I didn't wait by the car like a normal person. No, I found myself walking straight up to the changing room door, adrenaline buzzing through me. I wasn't willing to wait another second. I knocked, trying to steady my breathing, knowing I was overstepping, breaking every rule. But I was past caring about boundaries.
The door cracked open, and a boy I didn't recognize poked his head out. "Hi." I forced a smile, nerves and frustration bubbling underneath. "Is Gibsie in there? I really need to talk to him."
The boy gave me a look of mild amusement, but didn't move to let me in. "Who wants to know?"
"Uh, me?" I replied, rolling my eyes. "Obviously."
"And you are?" He leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying his role as gatekeeper.
"Who am I? Who are you more like?"
"Damien Cleary," he replied, still not budging.
I blinked. "And where did you come from, Damien?"
"I'm new," he said flatly. "Transferred from St. Pat's for sixth year."
"Well, Damien Cleary, I'm Aurora. And I really need to speak to Gerard Gibson, so if you could be a doll and fetch him for me, I'd be super grateful."
He stared at me for a long, silent moment before slowly trying to close the door in my face.
"Oh, hell no," I snapped, shoving my foot in the door. "Rude much?"
"I might be new, but I'm not thick," he replied dryly. "There's no Gerard on the team, doll, so maybe you should run along."
"Excuse me?" I narrowed my eyes. "Yes, there is. He just ran over two tries for your team. Gerard Gibson. Number seven."
"Pretty sure I know my teammates' names, and there's no Gerard," he shot back. "Now, kindly—"
"Fuck off?" I finished for him, incredulous. "Wow, you're even ruder than I thought."
"Lads, there's a crazy brunette out here," Damien called into the room. "Cover your dicks."
"He's number seven, idiot!" I huffed, pushing harder against the door and managing to squeeze past him. "And ew! Like I'd ever want to look at any of your tiny shrimps."
