“Wait—I missed my favourite part.” He pauses it, rewinds it slightly, then hits play at regular speed. I watch, my face burning, as Matt exits the bus after we’d finished, and he began tidying up. The moment he’s outside, he spins on his heel and mimes scoring a touchdown. I’m mortified, and yet I can’t find the strength to not laugh at such a dorky show of emotion. How does he go from I’m going to fuck you in front of a mirror to doing a silly victory dance?
