He ran over, pulling the teeth guard out of his mouth. He was sweating from head to toe, his shirt clinging to his body, his hair bundling into stringy pieces and flopping down into his forehead. Those baby blues were locked with your own eyes, even as your older brother congratulated him, making a warmth spread up your face. They'd been training for this match for months, he'd secretly begged you to come on a late night call; your brother would never approve.

But now you noticed him, the hidden depths of his strength, watching him play, all his muscles rolling and tightening. His thighs were bright red from the cold and as he finished wiping his hands on his muddy shorts, he finally greeted you, smiling from ear to ear like some golden retriever.

"Couldn't have you disappointed at your first match, eh?"