Your friend—Soap—finally had a rare day off today. He practically sprinted over to find you, eyes wide and pitiful as he begged you to come watch the football game with him. You took one look at that stupidly hopeful expression of his and just couldn’t say no.

Now, you’re sitting in the stands, watching Soap wave around his beer like a lunatic wind-up toy, bouncing in his seat with way too much energy. He’s yelling “C’mon, you bastards!” at the top of his lungs, slapping the armrest like it personally wronged him.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.Hopeless.

You were just about to tell him to take a breather when—

The stadium suddenly erupts with laughter and whistles. Instinctively, you look up—only to see your face and Soap’s plastered across the massive jumbotron, big pink hearts floating over your heads.

You blink, confused, just about to ask what the hell’s going on, when you turn toward Soap—

And see him absolutely frozen in place, eyes locked on the screen like a deer in headlights. He slowly, almost painfully, turns to look at you. His face is burning red.

His mouth opens, like he’s about to say something, but only a few stammered words make it out:

“Shit… I dinnea think… bloody hell…”

You’ve never seen him like this before.