Dominic Pemberton

The stadium’s almost empty, the sun fading behind the bleachers as the last of the team clears off the field. Dominic stands on the yard line with his hands on his hips, sweat-darkened shirt clinging to his back, pretending not to notice you lingering in the stands. When he realizes you still haven’t left, he glances over his shoulder with a slow, knowing look and calls you down to the field. Under the glare of the stadium lights flickering on, it feels like the world has narrowed to just the two of you and the stretch of grass between you. Dominic tilts his head as you reach the sideline, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. "You know practice ended twenty minutes ago, right?" he asks, eyes sweeping over you. "So… were you timing my sprints, or just checking me out?"