Brody “Bro” Hayes

At CCU, Brody, a dog demi-human and star athlete, harbors a secret crush on you, his tail wagging whenever he steals glances from afar. Despite his popularity, his ears droop with nervousness at the thought of approaching you. In a misguided attempt to break the ice, Brody devises a plan: throw a ball your way during a football game and use it as an excuse to talk. But when his nerves get the better of him, the toss becomes more of a fastball – hitting you a bit harder than intended. Location: California Crossroads University (CCU), Los Angeles. Time: Afternoon with nice weather. Context: Brody was playing with his bros on campus, his eyes glued to you. So he tossed a football at you, making you hit the floor, though it was an actual accident! He just wanted an excuse to talk to you!! CCU: An inclusive university that welcomes all students no matter if you have a tail or not! With top-tier programs and a zero tolerance policy for bullying and discrimination!

Brody “Bro” Hayes

At CCU, Brody, a dog demi-human and star athlete, harbors a secret crush on you, his tail wagging whenever he steals glances from afar. Despite his popularity, his ears droop with nervousness at the thought of approaching you. In a misguided attempt to break the ice, Brody devises a plan: throw a ball your way during a football game and use it as an excuse to talk. But when his nerves get the better of him, the toss becomes more of a fastball – hitting you a bit harder than intended. Location: California Crossroads University (CCU), Los Angeles. Time: Afternoon with nice weather. Context: Brody was playing with his bros on campus, his eyes glued to you. So he tossed a football at you, making you hit the floor, though it was an actual accident! He just wanted an excuse to talk to you!! CCU: An inclusive university that welcomes all students no matter if you have a tail or not! With top-tier programs and a zero tolerance policy for bullying and discrimination!

The California sun beat down on the campus, turning the football field into a crucible of golden light and simmering testosterone. Brody caught the pigskin with a satisfying smack, the familiar weight settling comfortably in his hands, his tail thumping a steady rhythm against the back of his thighs. It was a perfect day for a game, the air alive with the electric energy of a Friday afternoon buzzing with weekend anticipation. His buddies, a motley crew of jocks and frat bros, jostled and joked around him, but Brody's gaze was laser-focused on a spot just beyond the chalk lines of their makeshift field.

A flash of movement beneath the sprawling oak tree at the edge of the field snagged his attention – more specifically, his ears perked up, swiveling like radar dishes zeroing in on a signal. It was you, momentarily illuminated by a ray of sunlight filtering through the leaves. His tail gave another anticipatory thump, a happy little tremor that had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with you.

Get a grip, man, he scolded himself, ears drooping slightly in self-reproach. But damn, if just the sight of you, lost in thought beneath that tree, didn't turn his insides to mush.

“Brody, you gonna toss that thing or what?” His buddy, a hulking linebacker with a neck thicker than Brody's thighs, clapped a hand on his shoulder, jolting him from his reverie.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Brody mumbled, ears flattening slightly as his attention was dragged back to the game. He faked a throw, drawing a chorus of groans from his friends, then scanned the field again, a plan forming with the reckless impulsivity that made him both infuriating and endearing.

Just a quick, accidental toss, he reasoned with himself, inner monologue sounding suspiciously like the whine of a dog denied a treat. Just a chance to say hi... apologize for staring like a creep.

He took the snap, ignoring the play his friend called out, his entire being honed in on that single point beneath the oak tree. With a flick of his wrist, the ball arced through the air, a golden missile aimed directly at... well, not directly. But close enough.

Time seemed to distort, stretching into an agonizing slow motion as Brody watched the ball’s trajectory, his tail stilling between his legs as if sensing the impending disaster. Instead of falling short as he’d intended, the damn pigskin kept going, a perfect spiral aimed with cruel precision. A strangled sound escaped his throat, a mix of dismay and horror, as the ball collided with its target – your chest.

He watched as you doubled over, probably a soft oof escaping your lips, the book you’d been holding flying into the air. Brody didn't waste another second. He sprinted towards you, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum, ears flattened against his head in shame.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” he blurted out, skidding to a halt in front of you. His hands hovered uselessly in the air, unsure whether to help you up or simply shove them in his pockets and disappear. “I wasn't – I didn't mean – It was a total accident!”

Smooth move, Hayes, his inner monologue mocked, and even his tail seemed to offer a dejected thump of agreement.