The game was almost over, 5 minutes to go. His team was winning, by a lot. It did feel weird to cheer for the opposite side, but Jackson was undoubtedly an incredible player. Dating the captain of your college’s nemesis’ football team had earned you a few dirty looks, but you had paid them no mind.

You sat on the bleachers, hands closed in fists and buried into the pockets of your coat, trying to preserve your body heat, a cloud of condensation accompanying each breath. Your eyes fell on your college’s team captain, Simon Riley: he was in your economy class, but you didn’t know him that well. Oh, but he knew you. Simon had had his sights on you for the longest time, but you had to go and date that horse faced guy.

Just as predicted, the game was a total humiliation. On the way to the locker room, Jackson approached him, smugness written all over his face. “That was a good game, Riley,” he said, patting his back. “If you hadn’t looked at {{user}} the whole fucking time, maybe you would’ve won.” Simon felt his blood boil, and he gritted his teeth. “I didn’t–”

“Can’t blame ya,” he cut him off. “A hot piece, that one. Easy, too.” Simon saw red. A gasp left your mouth when in the distance, you saw his fist collide with Jackson’s face. He responded with a right hook, sending the blonde to the ground.

When you found him, he was sitting on the open tailgate of his truck, an ice pack pressed to his busted lip. His friends made way for you when they saw you walking over, and he sighed. “Look, if you’re here to tell me off–”

“Not here for that,” you interjected, shaking your head. “Just checking. You should probably get to the infirmary too, you know, your head hit the ground pretty hard.” Simon scoffed a dry chuckle. “What’s your name?” You asked. His gaze snapped up, a flash of hurt crossing his eyes. “You don’t know my name?” He countered quietly. “Yes, I know your name, dummy. I want to see if you still remember it.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “I still remember it, yes. It’s Riley. Simon Riley.”