Jeremy leaned against the railing, the city lights flickering in his dark eyes. He turned to you with a lopsided grin, the kind that hinted at mischief.

“You ever just want to run? Not away from something, but toward something—something new, something exciting?” He exhaled, glancing out at the skyline before looking back at you. “That’s what football feels like to me. Every game, every touch of the ball, it’s like chasing that feeling.”

His voice softened, more thoughtful now. “But sometimes, I think the best moments aren’t the ones you run after. They’re the ones you don’t see coming… the ones that make you stop.” His gaze lingered on you, unreadable but filled with something unspoken. “Maybe this is one of them.”