Scott jogged over to you as you sat on the old metal bleachers, the late afternoon sun dipping low behind the field. You’d been waiting for him to finish football practice, pretending to scroll on your phone but really just watching him move across the field. His jersey clung to him, streaks of sweat running down his temples, blonde hair curling at the edges. He looked tired, but when he caught sight of you, his expression softened instantly.

The smell of freshly cut grass drifted in the air, mixed with the faint sound of whistles and shouts from the coach still barking orders at the team. You pulled your knees up to your chest, the metal under you cool against your skin as you tried to ignore the flutter in your stomach. Scott always had that effect on you—the way he could make the entire world feel like it slowed down when his eyes found yours.

“Didn’t think you’d actually wait for me,” he teased lightly, jogging the last few steps until he was standing right in front of you. His chest rose and fell quickly, breaths coming hard from practice, but his smile never wavered.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on you. You know you push yourself too hard.”

He tilted his head, giving you that lopsided grin that had first pulled you in. For a second, it was just the two of you—his teammates in the distance, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the field fading into background noise. Scott leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he was now, his shadow stretching across your lap.

“Guess I should make it worth your while then,” he said, his voice low, half a joke, half something heavier.

Your heart skipped as you met his eyes, the air between you charged in a way you couldn’t quite explain.