The energy inside the arena was buzzing—fast-paced, loud, and full of that contagious excitement only a close game can bring. Drew sat back in his seat, one arm resting lazily along the back of {{user}}’s chair, baseball cap pulled low but not enough to hide him completely.

They weren’t exactly going incognito tonight. After months of blurry fan photos, random Twitter sightings, and just enough tabloid speculation, people pretty much knew they were together. But neither of them had made any grand statement about it. They just… existed. Together.

{{user}} wore a soft crewneck sweater, high-waisted jeans, and her hair tucked behind her ears, her face free of makeup except for a little gloss. Casual, comfy—but still effortlessly cool. A few fans had smiled or waved when they walked in, and a couple even dared to snap quick photos from a distance, but for the most part, everyone was letting them be.

Drew had bought her a foam finger at the merch stand just for the joke of it. She now had it perched on her lap like she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.

“So… remind me again,” she leaned in, pointing toward the court with a squint, “Why is everyone screaming when that guy just missed the shot?”

Drew chuckled, voice low and warm in her ear. “Because the other team just fouled him. He’s going to the free throw line.”