You arrived with enough time to see the last minutes of the training. The afternoon fell slowly, tinting the sky with warm hues. You climbed the bleachers with calm steps, looking for a secluded spot. You weren’t in a hurry, just waiting for your cousin to finish. From there, the field unfolded with the routine of the day: whistles, orders, the dry thud of the ball.

You crossed your arms, letting the breeze mess up your hair. You didn't pay much attention, at least not until that voice sounded above the commotion.

“Stay alert to the mark!”

Your gaze found him without meaning to. He walked along the sideline with a confident stride, the cap shading part of his face. Strong, a bit older than the rest, with the gray shirt clinging to his toned torso and a presence that seemed to fill the field without effort.

He wasn’t the typical coach. There was something in the way he moved, in his serious yet calm expression, that made him stand out without trying.

He didn’t look at you.

Until he did.

It was quick, almost like he was just scanning the field. But for an instant, his eyes locked on you. His brow furrowed slightly, as if he didn’t expect to see you there. He looked away just as fast... but something in his posture shifted.

You didn't look away, amused by the reaction.

The ball shot out from the field, but he didn’t notice.

“Coach, watch out!”

The impact was direct on his head, knocking his cap to the ground. The players’ laughter burst out, though it quickly faded when his stern gaze swept over them.

“Five extra laps for the funny guy,” he grumbled, rubbing his head.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. He picked up his cap with wounded dignity and placed it back on, trying to regain his composure.

But when he walked along the sideline again, his eyes found you once more. This time, with a glint both amused and annoyed, as if he knew perfectly well that you'd seen everything... and that you'd keep it a secret.

Or maybe not.