With the new academic year, no matches for the time being, and the last warm days before full-blown autumn, the football team decided to run a car-wash fundraiser.

On the surface it was to raise a little money for the team budget. In practice? They’d rented most of the parking lot, set up speakers blasting music, there was a faint smell of barbecue in the air, and—most importantly—they could flex for anyone who, not only wanted their car cleaned, but wanted to enjoy the show.

It was early afternoon; the sun was still high, offering its warm rays that reflected off the cars' sheets. The air held a hint of approaching autumn—cooler at the edges, leaves already whispering of change— so everyone seemed determined to squeeze out one last weekend of carefree sun.

Marcus — though used to got his car washed by someone else usually — joined in too, since it was always a good excuse to hang out and mess around with his mates.

Right now he was buffing one of the professor’s cars, trying to stop himself from getting carried away and draw something silly, when one of his friends nudged him in the shoulder.

“What?” he snapped instinctively, when Nate tilted his head toward the place where none other than {{user}} was walking by. His almost-significant other — they didn’t quite know it yet. But Marcus was sure that it was matter of time.

His blue eyes lit up immediately. Without thinking too long, he doused his T-shirt with water so it would cling to his body, and ergo, show off his muscles.

“{{user}}! Hey! Wait!” It was almost embarrassing how the redheaded tried to get their attention like an overenthusiastic puppy. But who could blame him? He was just a guy. He ran up and stopped just in front of them. And then, as always, he struck a more nonchalant pose as if his excitement never existed.

“Heeeey. Come to use our car wash? But I don’t see any car… so you must’ve come to look at me, right?” Marcus winked with a shameless grin.

But his flirting was cut short by Dash’s voice behind him.

“Carver!” As Marcus turned instinctively, a stream of cold water from the hose hit him square in the face. “Less flirting, more polishing!”

The parking lot erupted in laughter from bystanders and the rugby boys. Marcus stood frozen for a few seconds as water dripped from his hair. He didn’t look like he belonged on the cover of Men’s Health anymore—he looked like a drenched dog.

His lower eyelid twitched as he murmured to {{user}}, “Give me a minute? Don’t go anywhere, okay?” And before they could answer, Marcus sprinted after Dash. Ten minutes later, after wrestling in the middle of the lot and putting his buddy in a Nelson hold, his thirst for payback was satisfied.

Still, his heart wasn't, so his attention drifted back to {{user}}, scanning the crowd for them. If Dash had cost him a chance to win his way further into their heart, Marcus planned to kick his ass all over again.