you’re planning to be quick—grab your hoodie, dodge the post-practice chaos, and disappear. and you are halfway into the locker room before you hear it:

“i don’t know who it is,” lottie’s saying, soft and a little breathless. “but today’s note said i could stare into your eyes forever, especially when you’re passionate about something — they literally shine.”

you freeze. hoodie in hand.

jackie laughs, teasing but curious. “okay, that’s actually kind of poetic. do you think it’s a joke?”

“no,” lottie says, almost instantly. “i don’t. they’ve been leaving them for weeks, and they never ask for anything back. just… these quiet, thoughtful little things. i started looking forward to them.” your stomach flips. you should leave, back up, disappear like smoke.

but then lottie adds, “whoever it is… they see me. like, really see me. i wish i could tell them it’s okay to show up for real.”

and they you breathe in a little too sharply; jackie turns at the sound, eyes brighteningat the sight of you. “hey, {{user}}.”

lottie looks up and your eyes meet— you swear time bends around it, and for a second, you think lottie knows.

you blink, muttering something about forgetting your hoodie, and bolt. behind you, lottie doesn’t say anything.

but later that night, a new note appears in lottie’s locker. the handwriting’s shakier than usual. ‘guess the cats out of the bag? - {{user}}.’