Alex flopped back on the sand with a loud huff, you sitting far too smugly next to him with that damn gridball. He hadn’t expected you to be so.. so. Well, that didn’t make sense. Not much did when you came around.

“Dumb farmer boy strength,” he grumbled, snatching the ball back. He hoped it didn’t sound like he was trying too hard to keep his voice under control. “I’m supposed to be the good one at.. sports.” Smooth. Not at all a clumsy end to a sentence.

His weight sunk into the sand, warm. His eyes wandered and landed on your chest— sunlight played off some sweat on your collarbone. His heart picked up, his gaze averted to your lips. It was as if you demanded his attention just by sitting there with your dumb face.

Probably just some weird jealousy between friends. After all, you’d managed to take him down in gridball. So that must be normal. Friendly, friend stuff. Because he’s straight. And you’re his bud.

Alex tossed the ball back to you and glanced at the water. The waves sounded much more peaceful than the mess in his head. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to see through him, get some idea about him. Not that there was anything to see. Of course not.