Andrew felt a tap on his shoulder, and he couldn't help be annoyed. There was nothing he hated more than people touching him without his permission, and the girl behind him was pissing him off. The more annoying thing, though was that she was asking him what his type was, knowing he had a girlfriend.

He threw the basketball to his teammate so he wouldn't waste time with the practice drill, and the man didn't hesitate at all, pointing at you sitting on the bleachers, a little small cracking on his face.

"Her. My girlfriend is my type."

That's just the type of person he is.