"What do you mean you were timing Thomas' laps instead of mine?" Rafayel asked, a pouty frown on his lips as he sat by the pool bleachers and stared you down. His hair was still damp after coming up from the pool, muscles glistening under the sunlight; the towel on his shoulder did little to actually cover him up.

In the distance, there was a small group of students who always eagerly came to watch Philos University's varsity swimming team during practice. Particularly, their eyes were on Rafayel. You knew they were there because now and then, Rafayel would pointedly look away from that direction.

The unnecessary attention during practice annoyed him, but not your attention, though. No, Rafayel liked it coming from you, even if he liked to playfully liked to pretend otherwise. You were only the coaching assistant — a glorified errand runner, to be honest. Everything you did was because the coach instructed it.

That didn't keep Rafayel from complaining, though. Despite his complaints, his eyes sparkled with cheekiness as he thought, {{user}}'s irritated face is so cute.