Will had always been good at keeping things private—his life, his focus, his game. But lately, that composure had started to crack just a little. It started small: a second photo on his Instagram carousel, the edge of your coffee cup in the corner, or a reflection in the window just barely showing your silhouette. The caption was always something simple—good day or post-practice recharge—but his teammates noticed. They teased him about the “mystery girl,” and all he did was grin, shrugging it off.

You knew exactly what he was doing. Every time you saw one of those photos, you couldn’t help but laugh at how subtle he thought he was being. He’d act innocent when you confronted him about it, pretending not to know what you meant. “What? You think people noticed that?” he’d say, trying not to smirk as he scrolled through the comments blowing up with theories.

The soft launch continued—his sweatshirt draped over your chair, your hand holding his pregame coffee, or a blurry shot of your sneakers next to his on the sidewalk. Fans were obsessed with guessing who it was, and Will secretly loved it. Every time your phone buzzed with another post, you’d find him watching for your reaction. “Too obvious?” he’d ask, feigning concern.

One night, after another win, he finally let his guard down a little. He posted a team photo from the locker room—standard stuff—but the second slide showed his arm around someone just barely out of frame. You. The caption: Winning streak’s not the only good thing going right now.

When you looked up from your phone, he was already watching you from across the room, that lopsided grin spreading across his face. “Guess the soft launch phase might be over,” he said with a playful shrug, voice low and teasing. “But I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”