“You know, {{user}}…” Michael said as the two of you stepped out of the stadium together, “I think you’ve complimented him more today than you’ve spoken to me. All while wearing my jersey.”

His tone was so flat it almost sounded observational.

Almost.

The crowd around you slowly spilled into the parking lot, voices blending into the cool evening air as players stopped every few steps to sign shirts or pose for photos. A few metres ahead, the teammate in question was still surrounded by supporters, laughing at something someone had shouted from the barriers.

You looked back at Michael.

“…Are you keeping score?”

He shrugged.

“I got bored.”

A beat.

“So I started counting.”

His hands stayed tucked into the pockets of his jacket as he continued walking beside you, eyes fixed ahead.

“Eight compliments.”

Another beat.

“And you called him ‘adorable.’”

He finally glanced sideways at you, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“I didn’t know that was today’s theme.”

He looked back toward the crowd.

“…Should I start playing worse? Might get your attention again.”