𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. You know the way some people just click? Like, proper soul twin stuff - same craic, same mad humour, same 'I'd die for a chicken fillet roll' energy. That's what it means, really. Birds of a feather and all that - it's just saying we all find our little gang eventually. The ones who get your weirdness and never judge you for ugly crying over a boy from maths class who doesn't even know your name. Right, so picture this - a book that's just pure vibes. Like, no pages wasted on anyone dying or lads being absolute gobshites for no reason. Just deadly fun stuff - sneaky kisses behind chippers, late-night beach swims, too much fake tan and not enough sense. Maybe a bit of drama, sure, but the juicy kind - not the sobbing-in-the-rain type. More like, 'Oops I kissed the wrong twin' kind of buzz. It'd be unreal, like a girly sleepover mixed with a Y2K romcom. Every chapter would be like: 'Did that just happen?!' And you'd reread it with your best friend squealing beside you. Deadly craic altogether.

Sienna Lynch has one rule, never get involved with the Hollands. As the daughter of Tadgh, she's heard every warning there is. Lorenzo Holland's a mess - fighting demons no one wants to face. She's scared. She's warned. But something about him pulls her in anyway. And neither of them knows how this ends.

Joey bloody Lynch. The local junkie of Elk Terrace and, lucky me, my next-door neighbour. When I first moved here, I'll admit, I was curious. I mean, he's got that whole brooding, strung-out thing going on. I used to wonder, what's his deal? Who is he, really? What's the story behind the lanky lad who looks like he hasn't eaten in three days and acts like the world owes him something? Well, spoiler alert: he's a walking disaster. Personality-wise, he's an absolute car crash. Rude. Arrogant. Moody as sin. Honestly, one year. That's what Auntie Lisa promised. And then I can go. Back to London. Back to people who actually know how to hold a conversation without twitching every five seconds. But here I am, stuck in some grim corner of Ireland with Joey Lynch keeping me awake every bloody night. He's in my head like a bad pop song. And maybe that's what hate does. It doesn't burn hot-it festers. Keeps you up. Gnaws at you. And yet, for some infuriating reason, I can't look away. *** Olivia bleedin' Smith. Lives right next door, and thinks she's queen of the estate. Walks around like she's got a crown on her head and diamonds in her shoes. You'd take one look at her and think, "Ah, she's sweet. Bit posh. Keeps her head down." But nah. That girl's got fire in her belly and a tongue like a feckin' dagger. She's the type that'll look you dead in the eye, tell you exactly what she thinks of you, and not even flinch. And trust me, she's told me plenty. Thinks she's above it all - above me. Gives me this look sometimes, like I'm some grubby stain on her fancy trainers. All sharp jawlines and pouty lips, always flicking her hair like she's in some perfume ad. She's insufferable. Stubborn as hell. Always has to have the last word. And yet... there's something about her. Something I can't shake. She's like nicotine. One glare from her and I'm hooked. Can't decide if I want to scream at her or kiss her just to shut her up.

Finn Gibson. Number seven on the rugby team. A gentleman, proper like. Always opening doors and saying things like "after you" and "you alright there?" in this soft voice that somehow makes you feel seen. He's funny too - not the show-off type of funny, more the kind where you're halfway through laughing before you realise it was even a joke. Real clever wit, quiet like. It's not fair, honestly. And he drums, like actually properly drums, not just tapping out rhythms on the school desk like every other lad in Tommen. He's in a band and all. Do I like him? Yeah. I like him loads. More than I should. But this isn't that kind of story. I come from a house where everything's heavy. Where things crack and break and no one says sorry. Where nice things don't last, and if you want something - really want something - it gets used against you. You don't let your heart out in a place like mine. You learn to nod and keep quiet and do what Da says, even when you hate it, even when it's wrong. That's just how it is. So when Finn looks at me like I matter - really, properly matter - I want to believe it. I want to tell him I think about him when I fall asleep. So yeah. I like Finn Gibson. But liking someone like him... it feels like trying to hold light in your hand. Beautiful. Impossible. *** Mina O'Neill. Jesus, I don't even know where to start with her. She's the most beautiful human being I've ever seen in my life, and I mean that with my whole chest. She moves like she doesn't even touch the ground. A ballerina, and not the stuck-up kind either. She's always working, always rehearsing, and when she talks about dance, it's like watching someone light up from the inside. And me? I'm just... me. Watching her from the side of things. Hoping. I think she knows. I know she knows. She's not daft. But there's something holding her back. I don't know what. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's something in her life I don't see. But I'm not giving up.

forelsket (n.) the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love. ---- "Fuck you." "When and where?" ---- Fem oc x Male oc Soccer/party girl x mechanic/nerd boy #1 - shannonlynch #1 - hughiebiggs #1 - johnny #1 - ireland #1 - johnnykavanagh #1 - rugby