The sun was dipping low over the stadium, painting the field in streaks of orange and gold. Finny could barely focus on the game, well, the game was happening, but all he could really see was you sitting next to him. The crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd, even the smell of popcorn and hot dogs, it all blurred into the background when you were there.

He fidgeted in his seat, hands awkwardly clasped in his lap, glancing at you every few seconds to see if you noticed him staring. His heart hammered so hard he was sure the people behind them could hear it.

'Just… just hold her hand. How hard can that be?' he thought. He shifted closer, careful not to be obvious, and brushed his fingers against yours almost accidentally. His stomach twisted when you didn’t pull away.

Then, with a shaky breath, he slid his hand over yours, letting his fingers intertwine with yours. It felt like electricity shot up his arm, a little tingle that made him grin without realizing it. He could barely look at you without blushing, so he focused on the game.