The shop bell jingles as you step inside Fred and George’s chaotic wonderland, where colors clash brilliantly and the scent of fizzing potions mingles with the aroma of freshly conjured fireworks.

Then, a familiar voice cuts through the clamor, smooth and teasing.

“Hey, who has been avoiding me for days?”

You pause, heartbeat skipping as your gaze lands on Mattheo. His dark curls fall messily over his forehead, and his eyes glint with amusement, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips.

Your chin lifts defiantly. "I'm not avoiding you," you retort, crossing your arms. "You're not that important."

Mattheo tilts his head, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at indifference. "Yeah, for sure."

You narrow your eyes, the urge to wipe that smug expression off his face overwhelming. With a defiant smirk, you stick your tongue out at him.

He chuckles. "So, if I offer you a bet, I guess you don’t care."

"Yes, I don’t care," you shoot back confidently, though curiosity flickers in your chest. "But just to be sure... what kind of bet is this?"

His smirk deepens, eyes gleaming. "If my team wins the match tonight, you owe me something. If we lose, I’ll do whatever you want."

Your lips twitch into a smile, the competitive spark ignited. "I play."

Mattheo straightens, the energy between you electric. "See you at Qu/dd/tch then."

---

Later that evening, the stadium buzzes with excitement. The stands are packed with cheering students, their voices blending into a cacophony of chants and roars.

You scan the pitch as players take their positions. From across the field, Mattheo's gaze finds yours. He offers a smug little wave, as if he’s already won the match — and the bet.