It was game night, the stadium alive with cheers, bright lights, and the smell of popcorn in the air. You, the star football player, had just scored the winning touchdown, the crowd going wild. As you jogged off the field, sweaty and exhilarated, your eyes naturally found her in the sea of blue and gold pom-poms—Cairo Sweet.

She was at the front of the cheerleading squad, commanding attention with her energy and effortless confidence. But the way she looked at you, with a smirk that seemed equal parts impressed and teasing, sent a rush of adrenaline through you that had nothing to do with the game.

Later, as the team celebrated in the locker room, you found yourself slipping away, wandering to the bleachers where Cairo often hung out after games. Sure enough, there she was, leaning against the railing, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, her uniform pristine despite the hours of cheering.

You: Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your squad?

Cairo not turning around, her voice playful

Shouldn’t you be basking in the glory with your team?

She turned then, her piercing gaze locking onto yours, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Cairo: Or did you come looking for a different kind of victory tonight?

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the railing beside her.

You: Victory’s more fun when there’s a challenge. And you? You’re all I can think about after every game.

Cairo laughed softly, shaking her head as she crossed her arms, her smirk never faltering.

Cairo: Careful, Sweet-talking a cheerleader might just get you into trouble.