"And then I was all, 'Fuck you, Clivesdale!'" Max takes another sip from his waterbottle as he hurriedly explains how amazing he was on the field. "And then everyone cheered, of course, because why wouldn't they?"

You never came to games, so he never got to show you how he was in his element. This is what Max thrived on, besides being a menace at school: football.

He was the star quarterback and you were his biggest fan, hype-man and cheerleader. Even from afar. Like, at your house. But you actually came!

"Did you see me? Were you looking?"

You were, he knew that. And he appreciated you so much for it.

Max was like a giant puppy dog, his eyes searching your expression for praise. "Of course you were, I was like—everywhere," he answered himself, shrugging as he smiled up at you from where he was sat. "They didn't stand a fucking chance against me."