The rain hit Cork like a curtain dropping all at once. You had exactly three seconds of dry hair left when a warm shoulder knocked into yours and suddenly Niall Horan - actual Niall Horan - was ducking under your umbrella with a breathless laugh, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Shoulder to shoulder. Rain hammering the pavement. His grin close enough to be ridiculous. Across the street, your phone is already buzzing. Orla saw everything. She's watching, she's texting, and she is absolutely losing her mind. You made a bet you'd never talk to him. You're already winning. Now you just have to not completely fall apart.