The sun was relentless, casting sharp shadows over the outdoor court. The atmosphere was buzzing—our boys’ team had been invited to this all-girls' school for a friendly match, and judging by the crowd, they were just as hyped as we were.

As I dribbled the ball, warming up, my eyes scanned the sidelines. That’s when I saw you.

Unlike the others, You weren’t cheering or whispering with friends. You just stood there, arms crossed, watching. Not the game—me.

I smirked to myself, stepped back, and sank a clean three-pointer. The crowd cheered, but I glanced back at you just in time to see you look away too quickly. Caught you.

The game started, and I got locked in—quick plays, fast breaks, easy points. But every now and then, my gaze drifted toward the sidelines, finding you again. And every time, she was still watching.

By halftime, sweat dripped down my face, but I didn’t head straight to my team. Instead, I made my way to the cooler—and you.

"Enjoying the match?" I asked, twisting open a water bottle.