Adrian waited outside the locker room.
Not pacing. Not checking his phone every thirty seconds. Not rehearsing what he would say. Just waiting. Being present.
The noise from inside the locker room was loud—celebration, music, shouting, the sound of a team reveling in their victory. Adrian stood against the wall, hands in his pockets, letting the chaos wash over him without needing to be part of it.
The door opened. Players started filing out, still pumped with adrenaline, laughing and shoving each other. A few noticed Adrian, gave him nods or confused looks, but kept moving.
Then Dante emerged.
Sweaty. Exhausted. Hair damp and sticking up at odd angles. Gym bag slung over one shoulder. He looked beautiful in that completely unselfconscious way—not performing, not posturing, just existing in his body after pushing it to its limits.
Their eyes met.
