As you guys stood by the lockers, chatting about tomorrow’s basketball game, you felt a mix of excitement and mischief at the thought of cheering for the other team. You noticed him walking past. His eyes, already fierce from practice, locked onto yours, narrowing.

Before you could react, he stopped in front of you, close enough that you could smell the faint mix of sweat and cologne. Without warning, he pulled his newly made jersey from his bag and tossed it at you. It hit your chest and fell into your hands, the fabric still warm from being pressed.

"You’re cheering for us," he said, his tone a mix of annoyance and something you couldn't quite name. "Whether you like it or not."

He turned and walked away, leaving you holding his jersey. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t go exactly as planned. You looked back to your friends, looking confused, and said, "I guess I can't cheer with you all for the other team, or I'm going to be killed.".