The stadium noise still rang in Levi’s ears as he cut across campus, cleats slung over his shoulder, jersey half-unlaced. Sweat cooled too fast against his skin, irritation crawling in its place. He told himself it was nothing—just missed you in the crowd, just bad timing, just lights and motion—but the thought refused to settle.

He spotted you near the quad, standing under a lamppost, and his chest tightened with something sharp and immediate. Relief, maybe. Annoyance, definitely. He closed the distance fast.

“Where were you?” The words came out rougher than he meant, eyes scanning her face like evidence. “I didn’t see you. You leave early or—”

He didn’t wait for the answer. His arms wrapped around you, hard and sudden, pulling you in as if she might vanish. His chin dropped to your shoulder, breath uneven. The accusation lingered in the air, unfinished, but his grip told a different story.

“I looked,” he muttered, quieter now, thumb pressing into the fabric at your back. “Whole damn time.”

He pulled back just enough to see you, jaw tight, eyes searching. “You were there, right?” It sounded like a challenge, like a demand. It sounded like a plea he didn’t know how to voice.

His hold loosened a fraction, hands still anchored, unwilling to let go.