You’re there begrudgingly. Your friend begged you to come. Maybe you just wanted to sit somewhere noisy so you didn’t have to think for a while.

But then you catch him: Gabriel, the school's favourite golden-boy, the MVP or the only decent player of the shitty school team—cardigan discarded, blonde hair damp with sweat, brown eyes scanning the crowd—until they find you.

He double-takes. Then looks away. Then looks back and smiles.

It was just a small one, but you saw it.

After the game, You find him sitting on the steps behind the gym, grape soda in hand, breathing in the cold air.

He startles, but when he sees it’s you, he exhales.

"I, I don't really like crowds. Or attention. You came?"