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.

Rory Kavanagh was fine until Maeve Gibson started dating his worst enemy. She's his best friend. She's not supposed to get under his skin like this. Now she's pulling away, and Rory can't stop watching, can't stop wanting. Something's off. Something's wrong. And he's running out of time to stop it.

He didn't believe in second chances. She didn't believe in people. Tadgh Lynch had spent most of his life angry. Angry at his father. Angry at himself. Angry at a world that didn't stop burning even after everything he loved had already gone up in smoke. Now sixteen, living under someone else's roof, wearing the number 11 stitched into the back of his jersey, he was still trying to outrun a ghost with his mother's eyes and a monster's voice. Everyone in Tommen knew who he was - the hothead with a rugby number and a bruised knuckle, the smile that meant trouble, the boy who never stayed long enough to get hurt. Flora Feely? She didn't care. Quiet, awkward, sharp as broken glass when she spoke, Flora had mastered the art of staying unnoticed. It was easier that way. People couldn't leave if they never really saw you. And she was tired - tired of silence in her house, tired of being Patrick Feely's little sister, tired of pretending her heart hadn't gone cold the day her father walked out and her mam didn't ask him to stay. She didn't plan on noticing Tadgh Lynch. He didn't plan on needing her. But sometimes the fire in you recognizes the fire in someone else - and it doesn't matter how much you try to smother it. It burns anyway.

Aidan Feely. One of the most mysterious lads I've ever come across. He's got this quiet, brooding energy, like he's always a step removed from the chaos around him. Tall and lean, with that messy, dark hair that always seems perfectly tousled, as if he's just rolled out of bed and still somehow looks better than half the school. His green eyes - God, those eyes - sharp and intense, like he can see straight through you. I know boys are meant to be handsome, rugged, all that, but Aidan is just... beautiful. Long, dark lashes that half the girls in school would kill for, and a jawline that looks like it was carved from marble. He never says more than he has to, rarely smiles, and when he does, it's this rare, fleeting thing that makes my heart skip a beat. And I'm falling. Hard. But there's a problem. A massive one. I have a boyfriend. And he's nothing like Aidan. *** Sophie Quinn. The girl I've been losing my mind over for the past year. She's this whirlwind of chaos and laughter, the type of girl who lights up a room just by walking into it. She's got that wild, curly hair that never quite does what it's told, a laugh that echoes around the halls, and these eyes - bright and full of life - that catch the light in the best possible way. But here's the kicker - she has a boyfriend. Some tosser who doesn't deserve her. I see him around, loud and arrogant, one of those lads who thinks the world owes him something just because he can kick a ball straight. And it grates at me. I catch him throwing his arm around her, whispering in her ear, and it takes everything in me not to pull him off and tell him to keep his hands to himself. Not that I'd ever say it out loud, but I want her. More than I should. And I know she's starting to notice. The way I lean in a bit closer when she talks, the way my gaze lingers when she brushes past me. She's catching on, I can feel it. And I don't care about her boyfriend, not even a little. Because in the end, I'm going to have her.

Tadgh Lynch is angry, angry at the world. It seems the rest of his siblings have forgotten the hurt of their past, let it go. But he can't forget, his father haunts him, has been haunting him for years and he's losing hope that he'll ever be free of Teddy Lynch. Maeve Holland is desperatly searching for the will to live. Her older brother hates her, her mothers dead, her dads as good as dead and life isn't looking like it's going to get better any time soon, but then she meets him. An angry boy who changes everything.

Conor Kavanagh. The heartthrob of Tommen College. The biggest playboy in the school - cocky smirk, rugby jersey practically sewn onto him, always with a smart comment and that maddening wink. He's friendly, charming, flirty as hell. The kind of lad who'd carry your bag for you and somehow make it seem like your idea. But don't let that fool you - he's trouble. All sharp jawlines and swagger. And somehow, he's decided I'm his next bloody charity case. I hate it. I hate how he shows up when I don't ask, how he looks at me like I'm breakable. I don't need saving - I've got it sorted. The drink, the pills, the temper - all of it. My mess, not his. And every time I tell him to back off, to leave me be, he just gets closer, like I'm speaking in code. I don't need his pity or his perfect face. I don't need him. So why does part of me keep hoping he'll show up again tomorrow? *** Sinead Biggs. The reigning queen of Tommen. Sharp-tongued, sharp-eyed, and terrifying in heels. Everyone thinks she's just Cath's little sister - until she opens her gob and makes half the school cry before lunch. She walks those halls like she owns them, and honestly? She kind of does. The lads are scared of her. The girls want to be her. And me? I'm hopelessly, pathetically into her. Everyone knows it. My mates won't shut up about it. Even when she's tearing strips off me with that mouth of hers, I'm there grinning like a gobshite. Because deep down, I remember. I remember when we used to be best friends. When she used to laugh like a lunatic at my stupid jokes, when her hand would brush mine and neither of us would move away. But then came Owen Rice - the prick. Then came that night. The accident. The hospital. And when she came back, she wasn't the same. She'd built up walls with barbed wire. She'd become someone colder, louder, crueler. But I still see her. The girl I knew. And every once in a while, when no one's looking, I think she sees me too.

𝗗𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗲; (v.) to persuade someone that something false is the truth ༄ When AJ Lynch meets the new girl at Tommen, unaware of just how much her life mirrors his father's history. (WARNING | mcdonalds is mentioned a lot in this book, but pls boycott guys. free palestine 🇵🇸)

Mike Biggs-the most handsome boy in Tommen. Bit of a gentleman, but he knows how to shut people up when needed. Never thought we'd be close, but after what happened with Sinead-his little sister and my best friend-things shifted. Do I like it? Can't say for sure. He's different when it's just the two of us. Softer. Kinder. But right now, I don't have time for love. I need to focus on becoming like my ma, playing in the orchestra. That's what matters. Not Mike Biggs and whatever this is between us... right? Bridget Feely-shy, sweet, and has this quiet kind of beauty that sneaks up on you. We've been friends for a while, and maybe-just maybe-I've thought about her as more than that. But I never let myself dwell on it. Until I heard her play the violin. Christ, I had no idea she could play like that. Now? Now I can't stop thinking about her. The way she looks when she plays, the way the music seems to carry her somewhere else. And just like that, I'm completely gone for the girl.

"The addiction didn't love her, I did." A.J. Lynch has it all-talent, confidence, and a name that carries weight at Tommen College. Christina Holland? She's the girl he's meant to hate. Christina's reputation comes before her-and A.J. knows exactly who her father is. He should hate her. But the more he sees her, the harder that gets.