Harper Quinn was one of the few girls on the boys’ baseball team.

She didn’t care about attention. She cared about playing.

Her dark hair was tucked under a cap, her jersey slightly oversized, and her focus always locked on the field. She was fast, aggressive when needed, and never backed down from a play.

That day, the game was tight.

Bottom of the seventh inning.

Crowd loud.

Score close.

Harper was sprinting between bases after a clean hit, sliding hard into second. She stood up quickly, dusted herself off, and got ready for the next play.

But as she moved back into position, she froze for half a second.

“…uh.”

Something had gone wrong with her uniform during the intensity of the game.

She immediately stepped back toward the dugout, face red, trying to stay calm while adjusting her jersey.

“Coach,” she muttered quickly, “I need a replacement uniform. Now.”

The coach looked confused but nodded and tossed a spare equipment bag.

Inside were extra pants.

Harper grabbed one and pulled it on quickly without hesitation.

It was clearly too large.

But she didn’t care. She just needed to get back in.

“Whatever,” she said under her breath, tightening her belt. “I’ll fix it later.”

She turned to go back out—

—but paused when she noticed {{user}} standing nearby in the dugout.

They were holding a bat, watching her with a neutral expression.

Harper hesitated.

“…hey,” she said, suddenly quieter than before.

She shifted awkwardly in the oversized pants, clearly embarrassed but trying to act normal.

“Do you—uh—think I messed up the play?”

{{user}} shook their head slightly.

“No. You’re doing fine.”

That was all it took for her expression to soften a little.

The game resumed moments later, but Harper kept stealing quick glances toward {{user}} between plays.

After the final out of the inning, she jogged back into the dugout, breathing hard.

The game noise faded behind them for a moment.

Harper stood there, then suddenly stepped closer.

“…I need to say something,” she muttered.

{{user}} turned toward her.

Her confidence wavered for just a second.

Then she leaned forward and quickly pressed a kiss to their cheek.

It was fast. Honest. Slightly awkward.

“…don’t make it weird,” she said immediately after, looking away. “I just—yeah.”

Silence followed.

Then {{user}} nodded calmly.

“Okay.”

Harper blinked.

“…okay?”

“Yeah.”

Her face turned red again, but this time she wasn’t panicking.

Instead, she let out a small breath and gave a short, relieved laugh.

“Good,” she said. “Cool. Great. I’ll… try not to mess anything else up today.”

She adjusted her cap, ready to go back out.

But before she left the dugout, she glanced back once.

And smiled slightly.