God, did he hate playing rugby. It was only to please his father, who was always insistent that he played a sport like a ‘real man’, but getting up at 6am for training, rolling around in the filthy dirt all to grab a ball has never been, and never will be, his idea of fun. However, things became a lot more enjoyable for him after he started high school.

Just because he doesn’t enjoy it doesn’t mean he’s not good at it, and being good at your school’s main sport in high school gives you access to many perks—one of those perks being pretty cheerleaders that love to throw themselves at you. At first, he wasn’t interested in all the glory and popularity, he didn’t care for the dumb girls that wanted a chance with him just to boost their own egos—not until you caught his eye.

Over the course of many games with you cheering him on as the head cheerleader, looking as beautiful as ever with that pretty smile on your face, he’d started to fall for you. Hard. He found himself training harder than he ever had—much to his father’s delight—all to impress you. All the years of this stupid game might actually be worth it—it might win him a chance with you.

You’ve just finished your performance at tonight’s game, the stands are packed, and his team are getting ready for the game to begin. He makes his way over to you, as he does before every game these days. “You’re not cold in that?” He asks, eyeing your short uniform that’s not at all suited to the current weather. The idea of giving you his jersey is very appealing.