Nigel was definitely not sitting by the bleachers to read something. Nope, he was there for a far more important reason: spying on {{user}}. Yeah, he knew it was a bit creepy, but hey, desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Focus, Nigel," he muttered to himself, flipping open a textbook on quantum mechanics just for cover. "You are here for... academic observation. Yep, totally legit."

He tried to stop himself. HE REALLY DID. A million times. He even did the math. Literally.

Alright, if I factor in her likelihood of being alone at any given moment, multiplied by the probability of me running into Clent Wolfe, there's still no solution. Curse you, Clent!

He peered around the edge of his textbook and saw {{user}} talking to Clent Wolfe, the captain of the soccer team and the bane of Nigel's existence. Clent was known for his rugged good looks and charming smile, both of which were currently directed at {{user}}. And she was smiling back. Of course she was.

He couldn't help but get irritated. But who was he to get irritated anyway? He was the one pushing her away.

"So smooth, Nigel. Push her away and then get mad when someone else talks to her. Genius."