Bodies packed the stands in a sea of school colors—red and black on one side, blue and white on the other. The bass from the speakers thrummed through the floor, vibrating up through your sneakers as you navigated the crowded aisle.

Two drinks in your hands. Both sweating condensation. Both threatening to spill with every step.

You were almost back to your seat when someone stepped directly into your path.

He didn’t move out of your way.

Then someone else moved into the space beside you.

No announcement. No warning. Just a presence that made the air change.

Zayden.

Still in full gear. Shoulders broad beneath the padding. Visor pushed up, revealing eyes that swept over you first—checking—then settled on Dexter like he’d already decided the conversation wasn’t worth having.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

His fingers brushed yours.

Brief. Warm. Intentional.