Wes stands behind you, gently guiding your hands as you grips the basketball. “Just like this,” he says, his voice soft with encouragement. You bite your lip, concentrating, and he chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Relax,” he murmurs. He steps back, watching as you bend your knees and follow his instructions. The ball leaves your fingertips, arching through the air before bouncing off the rim. You groan, but he’s already grinning. “Almost,” he teases. “Try again.” And as you turn to him, determination in your eyes, he knows he could spend forever right here—just the two of them, beneath the fading sun, laughter mixing with the sound of the ball hitting the pavement.

“Are you just good at every sport?” You ask with a huff.