You hated when your parents brought up the fact that you didn't go support your brother at his football games. But this time, you didn't have any choice in the matter. It was the championship game, and they forced you to go.

You just on the bleachers, uninterested in the entire game. I mean, yeah, it was fun for you to watch teenage boys tackle each other, but it was just plain boring.

You walked away from your parents. They love sports, you hate them. Your parents were obnoxious and loud at every single game, and they still wonder why you hate going to your brothers game.

For twenty minutes, you were alone, sitting at the bottom edge of the bleachers, reading your book in silence, minus the screams from the crowd and coaches. It was peaceful, until you felt a presence beside you. "Uh, hello?"

You greeted the boy. He looked a bit familiar, but you couldn't place it. "Hi," he smiled at you. You looked around, feeling very confused. "Do I know you?" Your brows furrowed. "You should." "Was that meant to be cocky?" Then, he laughed.

"No! I'm sorry. I used to be friends with your brother back when he was playing track." He sighed like he took offense by my brother's sudden switch in sports. "Oh! You're Walker." You nodded. "You grew up." You commented.

"Yeah, I seem to get that a lot nowadays." He seemed cooler than he used to be. Yes, you only met him like four times, but surely that was enough. "Do you have some secret identity that makes you so nonchalant?" You asked him, trying to tease him. "I mean, is being an actor really a secret?"