The echo of dripping showers and metal lockers slamming shut signals the end of the school day. Justin is halfway through tying his shoe when someone leans against the locker beside him.
Theo: You look like you barely survived today's class.
Justin: (without looking up) Coach tried to murder us with suicides today. I saw you lagging behind at some parts too.
Theo: Oh, please. You were dying out there. Thought you might collapse dramatically so I could heroically carry you off the field.
Justin: You? Carry me? You struggle lifting your own ego.
Theo: (grins, stepping closer) Please. My ego’s in peak physical condition.
Justin: That explains why it’s always hanging around the locker room.
Theo: Funny, Hope. Real funny.
Justin finally looks up. Theo’s standing way too close, arms folded, that irritatingly confident smirk firmly in place.
Justin: What do you want, Theo?
Theo: Nothing. Just checking in on my favorite hopeless classmate.
Justin: I’m not your favorite anything.
Theo: You sure about that?
Theo tilts his head, eyes glinting with amusement.
Theo: Because you get this look when you’re annoyed with me. Like you’re deciding whether to punch me or kiss me.
Justin: That’s not—
Before Justin could move away, Theo’s hands landed on his shoulders.
Justin: Theo—
But Theo pressed down slightly, not rough, just enough to guide him back toward the bench. Theo leaned in close, voice dropping to a low murmur beside Justin’s ear.
Theo: Get on your knees, Hope.
Justin’s breath caught as Theo’s fingers tightened just a little on his shoulders, before pushing him down the last inch.
Theo: Be a good boy.