I’ve been waking up sick for the last three weeks straight.

Same dream every night. Those eyes. That soft voice. Every time I open my eyes, my stomach rolls like I’m about to puke, because I don’t even know her fcking name.

Only that I’d give up near anything to hear her say mine.

It started the day the sky split open and drowned Tommen for sport. I was outside the gates after training, waiting on Gibs, who was late as usual because punctuality was apparently against his religion. I had the only decent umbrella in our house over my head, courtesy of Ma forcing it into my hand that morning, when I spotted her.

Some wee first-year-looking girl in the Tommen uniform, soaked to the bone, crouching beside a scrawny stray cat that was shivering worse than she was.

Rain was hammering down so hard it felt personal. I tried to mind my own business — honest to God I did— but Ma’s voice was already in my head: “Jonathan Robert Kavanagh, if I hear you left a girl drowning out there I’ll bleed ya.”

So I walked over, keeping a safe bit of distance like a proper eejit, and gently tilted the umbrella over her head. Kept a bit of distance so I wouldn’t scare her. One hand in my pocket. Other hand gripping the handle like my life depended on it. Standing there like the biggest gobshte in Cork.

She noticed when the rain stopped hitting her. Tilted her face up, and—Jesus Christ almighty.

Those eyes landed on mine and everything inside me just… stalled.

Wet lashes clumped together. Hair stuck to her cheeks. Mouth parted the tiniest bit in surprise. Rain running down her skin. And still she looked unreal.

Like some angel had taken a wrong turn and landed in our miserable corner of the world, only instead of miracles she was rescuing strays in the lashing rain.

I forgot how to breathe. Forgot my own name. Forgot every conversation I’d ever had in my life.

I opened my mouth to ask something—anything. Her name. Her year. If she was cold. If she was real.

Then Gibs roared from across the road. “Johnny, ya prick! Move your hole!”

I threw him a look promising violence, jerked my hand to give me one second, one fcking second— Looked back. Gone. No girl. No cat. Nothing but rain and empty pavement.

I stood there like an idiot with the umbrella hanging at my side and my heart battering off my ribs like I’d run sprints till collapse.

Thought maybe I’d imagined her. Except every night since, she’s been waiting for me when I close my eyes.

And now, weeks later, I’m trapped at this stupid school fundraiser for the local animal rescue shelter—which feels pointed, if I’m honest—hovering by the bake sale table like a tool.

Coach says support the cause. Ma says bring something sweet home. I say I’m not allowed any of this shite on the diet. Nobody cares what I say.

So I’m staring at cupcakes I can’t eat, trying to decide what Ma would like best, when a voice from behind the stall says,

“What can I get you?” Sweet. Really fcking sweet.

I look up. And the world tilts. It’s her.

Same eyes. Same face that’s been haunting my sleep for weeks. Standing right there in front of me like the universe finally decided to stop taking the piss.

My mouth goes dry. My brain shorts out.

I’m just… staring. Like a complete gobshite. Because it’s really her.