Being a cheerleader for the basketball team was fun.

Not only did you get to perform intricate routines, make new friends, oh and—did I mention?—see a certain player almost every single day.

You and Scaramouche had never spoken a word outside of the gymnasium, but whenever he was taking a break, or even while he was playing, his eyes would always find yours.

It wasn’t just a casual glance, either; it was a look that made it feel like you had known each other your whole lives, even though you hadn’t exchanged a single word.

You set your pompoms down, reaching for your water bottle to take a sip, though it did little good. The moment you saw the player in question approaching you, you nearly choked on it. Your heart skipped a beat as Scaramouche stopped in front of you, his piercing gaze locking onto yours.

"So you're {{user}}?