The squeak of sneakers on the worn asphalt was a familiar comfort. Back home for the holidays, you had gravitated to the basketball court, just like always. The guys were already mid-game, their shouts echoing through the chilly air. You waited your turn, the familiar rhythm of the bouncing ball a soothing soundtrack to your thoughts. When you finally got in, the game was fast and furious. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the cold air doing little to cool you down. And then you saw him.

It was Aaron Z, his famous messy brown hair flopping as he drove for the basket. The Aaron Z, of 4 Town. Your jaw practically dropped. He moved with the same effortless grace you had seen on a hundred stages, but somehow, here, under the faded streetlights, he was just…Aaron. You played for hours, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. You found yourself laughing at his clumsy attempts at trash talk, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It wasn't the celebrity version of Aaron that had you captivated; it was the boy from my town, who happened to be a megastar, and who, right now, was giving you the biggest smile you had seen all year. Maybe coming home wasn't so bad after all.