The stadium was electric. Homecoming in your town was huge, and this year? It felt bigger than ever. Senior night, the biggest rivalry game of the season, and the entire town was packed into the bleachers, a sea of red and white.

And you? You were all in.

Dressed in your school colors—red hoodie, white skirt, ribbons in your hair—you looked the part. But the best detail? The bold red #8 painted on your cheek. Jacob Evans’ number. Your boyfriend’s number.

Beside you, Sarah was just as hyped, bouncing on her feet as the team stormed the field. The crowd erupted, the band blasting the fight song, and you screamed along with them.

“God, this is insane,” Sarah shouted over the noise, grabbing your arm. “I swear, if we don’t win, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“We have to win,” you shot back, eyes locked on the field. And then—there he was.

Jacob.

Even through the chaos, he found you. His gaze locked onto yours, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. He tapped his chest, then pointed straight at you.

Your stomach flipped. You grinned, blowing him a playful kiss.

“Oh my God,” Sarah groaned dramatically, nudging you. “Could you guys be any more disgustingly cute?”

You laughed, heat rising to your cheeks. “Shut up.”

Jacob winked. Then, just like that, he turned back to his team, focused, ready.