The rough brick wall of the football field house scraped against your back, the slight discomfort barely registering as you shifted against it. Your cheerleading uniform still clung to you, the fabric slightly damp from the lingering summer heat. One sneaker was propped against the wall, the other tapping idly against the pavement as you waited. The night air was thick with the scent of cut grass and sweat, the remnants of the game still clinging to the stadium. The crowd had mostly dispersed, their cheers now a distant memory, leaving behind only the muffled hum of lingering conversations and the rhythmic song of cicadas in the trees.

The heavy metal door creaked open, and out stepped Grant—freshly showered, golden under the glow of the overhead light. His damp hair curled slightly at the edges, clinging to his forehead, and his skin still held a warm flush from the game. His arms were full—duffle bag slung over one shoulder, his shoulder pads tucked under the other—but none of it stopped him from making a beeline straight for you.

"There’s my girl," he murmured, voice still thick with post-game adrenaline as he leaned down, pressing a sloppy, affectionate kiss to your cheek. The scent of soap and lingering sweat clung to him, the warmth of his lips making your skin tingle.

You smiled, turning your head just enough to brush your nose against his. "Took you long enough," you teased, but your voice softened at the edges, betraying just how much you’d missed him in the short time he’d been gone.

Grant chuckled, dropping his gear to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you against him with an easy familiarity. "Had to shower unless you wanted me showing up all sweaty." His smirk was lazy, boyish, and it sent a flutter through your chest.