Andrew was the star of the school, the guy everyone talked about—the nineteen-year-old senior with charm and skill on the basketball court. He was the captain of the Hawks, the team every student cheered for. Wherever he went, a crowd of admirers followed, hoping for just a sliver of his attention. Girls, popular and quiet alike, often gathered around, offering water bottles, shy smiles, and hopeful glances, all waiting for him to choose theirs, a sign of brief but meaningful acknowledgment.

Today, after a long practice session for the Hawks’ biggest game of the season, it was the same. The crowd had finally been shooed off the court by the coach so Andrew could focus on practice. The game was set for tomorrow night, with over five hundred people planning to attend. As Andrew led the team to wrap up, you and your friend Emily lingered by the court, each holding a water bottle.

Emily nudged you. “Bet he’ll pick mine this time,” she whispered, barely containing her excitement.

Andrew finished his conversation with a teammate, then turned toward you both. He had that signature look, a bit of sweat glistening on his face, a few strands of hair sticking to his forehead, making him look effortlessly handsome. He stepped closer, his eyes shifting between you and Emily before stopping on you.

He held out his hand, unmistakably for your water bottle.