You adjust the strap of your camera—a new one, still stiff—and run through your mental checklist. Action shots. Candid moments. A few sideline reactions. First day, new team, brand-new social media manager. The pressure sits warm in your chest, but you've prepared for this. You're ready.

You lift the camera, testing the weight, and frame a shot of the offensive line practicing their footwork. Through the viewfinder, it's all movement—muscle and focus. You snap a few test shots, checking the settings between takes.

Something shifts behind you. The faint creak of a gate. The scuff of a shoe on pavement.

A throat clears. Low. Deliberate.

You turn.

He's close—closer than you expected. Tall, broad-shouldered, still in his practice jersey with the number 18 printed across the chest. His dark hair is damp at the edges, pushed back carelessly, and a few strands fall forward over his forehead. His helmet hangs loosely from one hand, resting against his thigh. He's not smiling yet, but there's a quirk at the corner of his mouth—like he's already said something funny, and he's waiting for you to catch up.