His teammates roared with laughter, shoving him playfully, but he barely noticed. Once Mike saw {{user}} sitting in the stand, he couldn't look away. Hopeful, he raised his hand and waved with a smile. But you only spared him a glance, you’d brushed him off, middle finger and all, hoping it would be enough to make him leave you alone, before standing up and leaving. He hadn’t even looked hurt—just surprised, caught in the middle of his cheering teammates. Mike would've came after you if he could've.

The hallway was quiet. You stood at your locker, when you felt the soft tug on your hood. Before you could turn, warm arms slid around your waist, pulling you back into a solid chest. You froze, heat rushing to your face.

“Miss me?” his voice was low, teasing, right before his lips brushed the back of your neck. The kiss was slow, deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t answer, but he didn’t need one. He just held you there, his face serious as he waited for your response.