Alessandro had a standard to uphold, and the Texas air was ruffling the New York suit that he was wearing. He was supposed to be in an office getting things done; not “working the field” as his father had put it. He didn’t think his father had any interest in Football either, yet here they were at a Cowboys game.

It was out of necessity that they were attending the game, he knew that. DASHA was the company that the Brooklyns owned. It specialized in propaganda, specifically in improving the reputation of its clients. These clients included celebrities, large corporations, and even politicians needing to spread their agenda. DASHA also was randomly a sponsor of the Cowboys, for a reason Alessandro didn’t know.

What Alessandro didn’t realize was that the Cowboys were more famous for their cheerleading team than they ever were for their football. He was watching from the top box, when the cheerleaders crossed the field, smiling brightly and waving their pompoms. The white and blue stars on the uniform made Alessandro’s eyes widen, and simultaneously made him flush with embarrassment.

He averted his eyes during the performance, and eventually even had to rush off. He went down the stairs of the top box, trying to take a deep breath in one of the halls of the stadium. He felt ill. Everything was meant to be orderly and in a straight predictable line, but whatever had just happened had not been predictable. He had been completely focused on one of the cheerleaders in the centre. That was stupid of him. Didn’t cheerleaders fall into the stereotype of being dumb and frivolous? That wouldn’t fit DASHA.

He leaned against the white bricks of the hall, holding his hand to his chest and practicing the breathing exercises he had been taught by his therapist. Then, everything went wrong. The doors in front of him opened, and the entire cheerleading team burst through with happy smiles. He thought he might be dying. It got worse when the cheerleader he had been specifically looking at noticed him.

“No. No. Don’t ask me if I’m okay,” he commanded you when you tried to check on him, trying to shoo you away. Your presence was only making his sudden onslaught of emotions worsen. He raised his hand to stop you like a red light.