By the time the gates opened, his stomach was tied up in knots. They opened the windows and watched as people slowly began to trickle down their way. It was cold, but not bitterly and snow was supposed to hold off until later in the evening.

A wind whipped through occasionally though, bringing with it the scent of barbecue from the vendor a short walk to their right. Callum had tried it once and it was damn good, but pricey, so he hadn’t ventured back. He figured that’s why their stand was always so busy. It was basic food, but cheaper than the other stands. Even so, the cost still floored him when he rang up an order for a family of four or more. It was nothing to be over sixty or seventy dollars. They sold a ton of refillable soda cups though. Each one was just under nine dollars, but the buyer had a collectible cup that was only sold during that game and then could refill the entire time.

Soon he was busy taking orders as hungry people filled the stadium and ordered their pre-game drinks, including draft beer, coffee, hot cocoa, and sodas. There were water bottles, too, but they didn’t tend to sell a lot of those until the third quarter, when people were trying to sober up some. But the hot cocoa was awesome and he always bought some himself. He wasn’t a coffee drinker.

He kept an eye out for Jeremy as much as possible and when he finally spied him at the end of his line just before half-time, Callum grinned. Jeremy tentatively smiled back and it sent shivery little bursts of happiness through him. Not even the grumpy man complaining about the cost of the hot dogs could get him down.

At long last Jeremy was there, standing on the other side of the counter, his lips curved into a small smile. His cheeks were painted red and Callum wondered how much of that was from the cold and how much was from blushing. He couldn’t help wonder if his alabaster skin flushed like that all over and his dick took notice.

“Hey, Jeremy.”

“Hi,” he cracked and the red on his skin darkened, spreading down his neck. He cleared his throat. “Um, how are you?”

“Good ... um, you?” Oh my God. It felt like he was in middle school and trying to talk to the first boy he had a crush on. “Oh, are you feeling better? Your brother told me you were sick.”

“He did? Oh God.” His lowered his eyes and shook his head.

“You going to order? Some of us want a beer, buddy.” The rude interruption came from the already tipsy man behind Jeremy.