Van leaps, arms outstretched, as the soccer ball hurtles toward the goal. It bounces off the tips of their fingers, not enough to fully block it, and the ball sails into the goal. It hits the back of the net with the satisfying sound of victory.

Van looks over at you with a playful grin. "I totally let you score on purpose by the way,” they say (lie), putting their hands on their hips.