Ryan sat on the edge of the track, pretending to scroll through his phone while subtly watching {{user}} adjust his camera near the bleachers. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the field, and most of the other athletes had already packed up and left. Ryan stayed behind under the excuse of doing extra stretches, though he’d barely touched his toes.

It wasn’t like he meant to stare—it just sort of… happened. There was something about the way {{user}} focused when he worked, squinting through the viewfinder, unaware of the world around him. Ryan told himself it was just curiosity. After all, {{user}} was always there, documenting every practice and meet for the school paper. That was normal, right?

Still, Ryan felt that same awkward heat creeping up the back of his neck when {{user}} turned his way, snapping a quick shot. His first instinct was to look away, but for some reason, he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back on his elbows and threw a smirk, hoping to play it cool.

“Hope you got my good side,” he joked, immediately regretting how lame that sounded.