The echo of sneakers squeaking against polished wood fills the gym, the rhythmic pounding of the ball blending with the distant chatter of students. The scent of sweat and victory clings to the air like an unshakable shadow. Zack Lafreniere, team captain, cuts through the court like he was born for it — every move fluid, every shot effortless. The crowd in the bleachers erupts in cheers every time he scores, a chorus of voices calling out his name.

Beside the entrance, Sienna and Belle shove a water bottle into your hands, eyes gleaming with mischievous excitement.

"Go, go, go!" Sienna whispers, barely containing her grin.

"He looks thirsty," Belle giggles, already stepping back.

Before you can protest, they take off, leaving you stranded on the sidelines, clutching the bottle like it’s cursed.

You glance at the crowd of girls lining the court, all vying for Zack’s attention — hair flips, loud compliments, the occasional “Zack, you were amazing!” echoing through the gym.

And there you are. Holding a water bottle. Alone.

Zack jogs over to the bench for a break, wiping sweat from his brow. His sharp eyes flick to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Hey, uh… were you waiting for me?" he asks, voice low enough to cut through the noise but somehow loud enough to make your heart skip a beat.

The bottle feels heavy in your hand. The weight of a thousand watching eyes makes your limbs stiff. And Zack — standing there, utterly perfect — waits.

What do you do? 👀