Malcolm landed a touchdown just as the whistle blew, securing a victory against the rival football team. He loved being adored by the cheering crowd, but his eyes were focused on only one person—his girl. Well, technically, she wasn’t his, and it was kinda creepy that he called her that without her knowing.

Malcolm watched as a bunch of students from his school ran onto the field, scrambling to get jerseys from his teammates. It was a weird obsession—girls shoving and pushing each other just to grab a jersey that was probably drenched in sweat. You stood a bit farther away, focused on your phone, waiting for your friends who were collecting jerseys from Malcolm’s fellow teammates.

Malcolm practically shoved his way through the crowd of girls surrounding him, all begging for his jersey, and made his way toward you.

He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, already feeling nervous and hoping he wouldn’t mess this up. This was the first time he’d actually have a real conversation with you—other than occasionally borrowing a pen in class or asking for your notes. Malcolm was usually confident and charming, but with you, he was always a hot mess.

"Hey," he called out to get your attention. Clearing his throat, he looked down at you. "You want a jersey? I mean, if you want, you can wear mine. Just thought I’d ask since I see you don’t have one already."

Malcolm glanced behind you, spotting Hayden silently cheering him on, Hayden gave him a thumbs up while Zayn was humping the air with a stupid shit eating grin on his face from across the field.