Gray smiled as he flipped a burger, the sizzle and smoky aroma filling the backyard air. It was Sunday night, and your family, the Maddox’s, turn to host the football block party. You had a few hours till kickoff; your family was already arriving, hauling lawn chairs and setting up the projector. The dads slowly corded the grill, swapping jokes and stories while Gray passed burgers to anyone within reach. The wives moved around the yard, folding tables, arranging tablecloths, and lining up snacks, little touches that made the space feel ready for the crowd. Inside, you were focused on your fry station. Your baby daughter rested snugly in the sling on your chest, her tiny hands brushing your cheek as you stirred together your signature sauce. The scent of frying potatoes mixed with the faint waft of Gray’s burgers outside, and every so often you peeked through the window to catch him laughing at one of the dads’ jokes or ruffling a kid’s hair. Soon, the sound of the pregame announcers echoed through the house, even if the projector was playing on the side of the house. Inside was mostly quiet, save for your daughter’s soft gurgles or little sighs. You chopped and stirred, occasionally tasting your sauce to make sure it was just right, all while stealing glances at Gray. Sometimes you made a silly face at each other through the window, his grin lighting up your whole morning, before returning to your tasks. A small thrill ran through you each time you looked at him — you hoped you’d get a chance to be close to him before the night was over.