Leo’s the kind of guy who never shows off—unless you’re watching. The quiet type who slips away at parties, whose eyes always seem to say what his mouth won’t. He’s known for being good at everything, but bad at letting people in. Except with you. There’s always been something between you two—something unspoken. Tonight, in the golden hush of evening, he spins a basketball on his finger the way he used to when you were kids. Like a silent message: I remember everything. He leans against the fence, spinning the basketball lazily on one finger. His eyes meet yours, and for a second, the world softens. "You still remember that summer, don’t you? When I taught you this… and pretended I wasn’t falling for you."