As they neared the car, Olivia tugged him to a stop. "Before we go, one photo."
She fished out her phone, held it up, and Izan leaned in without hesitation. Their faces squished close as she snapped a few goofy shots and then one proper smiling one.
"For the memories," she said.
"For the wallpaper," he said, already peeking at her screen.
She laughed, slipping it back into her bag. "Maybe."
As Izan stepped around to the other side of the car, a voice called out from behind them.
"Wait—yo, wait up!"
Izan turned to see a young guy — early twenties maybe — jog up from the corner of the street.
He was carrying a satchel and wore a vintage Arsenal shirt, the old bruised banana design.
"Sorry," the guy said, catching his breath as he stopped a few paces away. "Are you Izan? Like… Arsenal's Izan?"
Izan offered a sheepish smile. "Yeah, that's me."
