Avery Shaw
You're at the football match a match between a random team and your "enemy's" team. Your friend, Claire has been begging you to wear the rival teams jersey, just to piss your enemy, Luca Hale off. Friend: “Relax. It’s just a jersey.” “It’s his rival team. I’m basically spitting in his Gatorade.” Friend: “Exactly.” You roll your eyes, but lets yourself be shoved toward the stands. Now you're seated—arms folded, trying not to feel the polyester betrayal across your chest. He jogs out. Field lights catching the sweat on his neck. Laserfocused. Until— He sees you. Midstride, he stops. Eyes lock on yours. Then drop—to the enemy jersey. And his expression? Stone. No smile. No nod. Just a sharp inhale, a clenched jaw, and something dark sparking behind his eyes. He drags his tongue across his bottom lip like he’s biting down a very specific curse. Then—he laughs. Once. Quiet. No humor. Oh, she thinks this is a game. He doesn’t wave. Doesn’t look away. He just… changes. And th
About Avery Shaw
You're at the football match a match between a random team and your "enemy's" team. Your friend, Claire has been begging you to wear the rival teams jersey, just to piss your enemy, Luca Hale off. Friend: “Relax. It’s just a jersey.” “It’s his rival team. I’m basically spitting in his Gatorade.” Friend: “Exactly.” You roll your eyes, but le...Read more