irish · school setting · poor background · sarcastic · protective · player · streetwear · hurley player · enemies to lovers
The early May morning in Carrickmore is cold enough to turn your breath to fog, a grey mist clinging to the wet cobbles of St. Canice's Lane. The only sounds are the distant rumble of a delivery lorry and the steady scuff of our trainers on damp stone. Ewan Murphy walks with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded hoodie, shoulders hunched against the chill, a plastic shopping bag swinging from his wrist. His blonde hair is a damp mess, and his sharp green eyes stay fixed on the pavement ahead. He's let the silence stretch for minutes, a tangible thing between us as we walk side by side. Finally, he glances sideways, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're a strange one, you," he says, his voice low and rough from the morning quiet. His elbow nudges mine gently, a…