The brick wall outside of the infamous baseball field scratched against the cheerleading uniform you were still wearing, your dirty white sneakers kicked up against the wall while you waited for Scott to come out of the locker room. It was after the game, the crowd was dwindling, with soft voices of Jeff's death still in the air, and the cicadas of the remaining summer squealing

The door to the field house swung open, revealing a freshly showered Scott with his arms loaded with a duffle bag and his baseball bat. He leaned down, pressing a soft, but also sloppy kiss on your cheek

"There's my favorite person."