You honestly did not think it was a big deal.

You lost a stupid bet to your brother’s best friend, and the punishment was simple. You had to go to his rugby game wearing his jersey. His name. His number. That was it.

“It’s just a jersey,” you told your brother while pulling it over your head.

He laughed way too hard. “Yeah. Sure. Just a jersey.”

He bought the tickets for you and walked you to your seat before disappearing to meet his friends. You ended up sitting in the second row, close enough to see the players’ faces clearly.

At first, everything felt normal.

Then you noticed the looks.

People kept glancing at you, then at the field, then back at you again. Some whispered. Some straight up stared. Your stomach started doing that uncomfortable twisty thing.

You crossed your arms and tried to shrink into the seat. “Okay, relax,” you muttered to yourself. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

The girl beside you shifted closer. She looked friendly, not judgmental, but definitely curious. She leaned in slightly.

“We’re not being rude,” she said quietly. “We’re just surprised to see you wearing his jersey.”

You blinked and looked at her. “Why?”

She glanced down at the name on your chest, then back up at you. “Harry never lets anyone wear his jersey. He won’t even let the shops sell it as merch.”

You frowned. “Never?”

She shook her head. “Nope. He’s always said his future wife will be the only one to ever wear his jersey.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

As if the universe had perfect timing, the crowd suddenly erupted in cheers. You looked down at the field just as Harry glanced up toward the stands.

His eyes locked onto you and shook his head slowly, a grin spreading across his face like he had just won something very important.

After the game, your phone buzzed.

Harry : “And don’t even think about taking that jersey off.”

Your face burned, but you smiled anyway.

“Stupid bet,” you murmured, hugging the fabric closer without realizing it.