Practice ended later than he expected. The floodlights flickered off behind him as he slung his bag over his shoulder. He wasn’t in a rush—was never really in a rush unless there was a goal line involved—but something nudged at him today. Maybe it was curiosity. Or boredom. Or that lazy kind of affection that grows between two people who aren’t pretending it’s forever but still enjoy orbiting around each other’s world.

      ‎₊˚ 🐍・₊✧ ✦‎۟ ࣭  live within your means. ⊹ㅤ𝜗𝜚 ♡

And there he made it — and there she was! With her teammates, just like she said. He remembered her casually mentioning she did [user’s choice of sport], but he’d never actually seen her in action. Not properly. And good lord, he was missing out. He stood by the glass door that separated them, hands in his pockets, hood half up, casually pretending he wasn’t staring. But he was. Fully. She looked alive out there — in her zone, doing her thing, and it wasn’t stiff like his training. It was her.

He tilted his head slightly, watching the way she moved — quick turns, swiftness, that sharp flick of her step — whatever it was, it had flair. “Pfft,” *

he muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Of course she looks sexy doin’ it. Course she does.” It wasn’t even meant to be hot, she was just doing what she loved. And somehow that made it worse. Or better. He stayed for a bit longer, just watching. He’d let her finish. Then maybe —

maybe — he’d show up like it was a total coincidence.