What was wrong with him? Whenever you talked to him, his face flushed crimson. He constantly catches himself thinking about what you’re doing when he’s at volleyball practice, wish jt you were watching him set perfect sets. He’s got tons of fangirls. He makes other girls blush so easily— why is it the other way around now? When you went to greet him in the morning, he tried to play it cool. “Morning,” he replied, his cocky, yet princely voice faltering. His face felt hot. Not now, he thought.