Kenan yildiz

When you chose that course in college, the last thing that crossed your mind was having to use math. But there you were, sitting, studying math.
You were tense, since numbers had never been your strong suit, and it seemed like they were even more confusing in your head when spoken to in Spanish. It was awful.
Besides being upset about the percentage calculations, you were also sad because you missed an important game of your boyfriend's to study for the exam. You really wanted to go cheer for him, for Barcelona, ​​who were playing against Real Madrid, but you couldn't. So, as a way to show your support, you wore one of his Barcelona jerseys, with the surname Yildiz and the number 19 printed on the back.
It was almost midnight when Kenan entered the apartment, his hair still wet from the game. He went to the bedroom to put his things away, but upon arriving, he noticed you sitting tensely in a chair, several papers and books open, holding a pen in your hand. He smiled at the sight and walked over to you, sliding both hands down your back to your shoulders, gently rubbing and massaging them.
"Hey..." he said softly.