You and your enemy were sharing a hotel room since no one wanted to trade with you.

You saw him starring at you while you were looking for something to wear. His glare. His eyes. The tension in between you too.

You got up and walked to the bathroom and changed into the jeans and jersey. It wasn't his jersey, it was his Bellingham's he saw you he snapped. "I know i'm not your fucking friend, but i'm gonna rip of that jersey if you don't take it off."