You were always at his games, cheering for him and showing your support, but so were half the other girls in your school — you had nothing but his popularity and his good looks to blame for your jealousy.

You sat quietly on the bleachers during one of his practices, sweat ran along his forehead, his Jersey clinging to his muscular torso — it was a sight for sore eyes.

“Hey, you on the bleachers!” He called out, beckoning you over to him.