Broba's POV
We had just finished practice. I'd taken a shower, thrown on a pair of sweatpants and a cropped hoodie, and gone outside to do some sketching. It always calms me, and I hadn't been able to do it since we got here.
I left my room, locking the door behind me, and waved to Hope as I passed. I stepped into the yard, but there was some kind of party going on. I wanted peace and quiet, so I walked over to the football field instead.
There was a nice bench nearby, and an old nut tree caught my eye. I sat down, took a moment to just breathe, then started sketching.
Not long after, a group of guys showed up in football uniforms. Our school's team came in shortly after, and I realized they were having a game.
Seriously? The first week's not even over and there's already a match?
I scanned the team and spotted Gabriel. Our eyes met. He smiled and waved, and I smiled back, giving him a thumbs up. He turned back to his team, talking to them with this intense look. I'm guessing he's the team captain.
They all got into position, and the game started. I spent most of it sketching, occasionally glancing over at the field. Well... mostly at Gabriel.
God, he looked good.
From what I could tell, they were winning. I think. I don't really know football.
I put my pencil down to watch the final touchdown. Gabriel spiked the ball dramatically, and the team went wild. I cheered along as they lifted him in the air. When they finally put him down, he ran straight over to me.
"Hey, Peanut," he said, breathless.
I smiled. He looked ridiculously cute. "Hey, Gabriel. Nice job out there. Quite the crowd, huh?" I joked, gesturing toward the practically empty stands.
He chuckled. "Yeah, it's kind of a closed match. Coach called it a 'friendly scrimmage.'"
I remembered how many times he got tackled. "Didn't look too friendly to me. How's your face?"
"Still sore, but I'm surviving," he grinned. "Still pretty as ever, I hope."
I blushed and playfully smacked his arm. "Shut up."
He laughed and glanced at my sketchbook. "I didn't know you were this talented, Peanut."
I shrugged. "It's just a hobby."
He sat beside me. "You should teach me sometime. Even my handwriting looks like chicken scratch."
I laughed. "Deal."
He studied my drawing while I studied him. His face was perfect. Then he caught me staring and smiled—and wow, my knees actually went weak. He leaned in closer.
"Teach me?" he asked, picking up my pencil.
I smiled and placed my hand over his to guide him.
"Are we even allowed in here?" I asked as Gabriel pulled me into a supply closet.
He jingled a key ring. "Captain privileges." He grinned, unlocking the door and pulling out a football. "Wanna play catch?"
How could I say no to that face?
The sun was starting to set. After the game, we'd sat and talked for a while, sketching together, before he led me here.
"Sure," I said.
We walked back onto the field, tossing the ball and chatting.
"So, where are you from?" he asked.
"Seattle. Lived there my whole life with my parents and siblings. You?"
"We used to live in Minnesota, but my dad's job moved us to New York. I like it, but I miss home sometimes."
"Got any siblings?"
He nodded. "Little sister. Lily. She's seven and absolutely wild." He smiled like he really loved talking about her. "What about you?"
"My family's a handful. My dad's an architect, and my mom's a stay-at-home accountant. My older sister Cassie is 21 and does college online because she didn't want to leave home. And my little brother Danny is 13 and thinks he's God's gift to women." I said the last part sarcastically, making Gabriel laugh.
"What about your parents?"
"My mom's a lawyer, and my dad owns some big company... I honestly don't even know what it sells." He shrugged, grinning. "Lily's my favorite part, though."
I smiled and tossed the ball back.
He caught it, frowned slightly, and shook his head. "Your throwing needs work."
"What? I'm amazing!" I pouted.
His expression softened. "Yes, you are amazing. Just not at throwing." He walked over, placing the ball in my hands. "Let me help."
I blushed. "No."
"Pleaaaase?" He gave me puppy eyes, and of course, I caved.
"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes.
He guided me. "Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart. Fingers like this. Now try throwing."
I threw the ball—it barely made it five feet.
"Peanut..." he laughed. "Angle it upward, not at the ground. Here."
He stepped behind me, one hand on my waist and the other adjusting my grip on the ball. His voice low, his body close—I was dying.
He was like every rom-com crush rolled into one.
"Now lean back, and..." he whispered, helping me release the ball. It soared.
"Whoa," I breathed, running after it.
"Told you. You should start calling me Gabriel the Wise," he smirked.
I walked back, stood on tiptoes until we were eye-to-eye, and said, "You might be good at throwing, but I'm better at touchdowns!" Then I sprinted away.
He blinked, stunned, before chasing after me. "I should call you Broba the Brat!"
"You mean Gabriel the Sloth!" I shouted, laughing.
"That's it," he growled. He caught up, lifted me off the ground, and spun me as I giggled uncontrollably.
When he finally set me down, we were both breathless. We looked at each other, and he leaned in. I did too. Our faces were just inches apart. My breath caught, and for a moment, the world stopped.
Then Gabriel cleared his throat. "This was fun, Peanut." He smiled and ruffled my hair.
I smiled back. "Yeah, it was. Mostly because..."
I tossed the ball into the end zone. "I GOT A TOUCHDOWN!"
He laughed and looked at me, eyes unreadable.
"You're really something else, Broba," he said softly. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."