There she is.

The roar of the crowd was deafening inside the arena, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat, loud and frantic as I watched {{user}}—UP Fighting Maroons’ star captain, wing spiker, and the ace of all aces—soar above the net, her arm slicing through the air before the ball slammed onto the opponent's court. Another point in the heated UAAP Women’s Volleyball Tournament. Another eruption of cheers.

She was a third-year student, already a campus legend, while I was just a second-year, clutching my press pass like it was a lifeline. Calm down, Jhoanna, I scolded myself, but how could I? I’d been hopelessly crushing on her since freshman year, sneaking into the games under the guise of covering them when really, I was there to watch her.

And now, I was actually assigned to interview her for the first time. Me. Face-to-face.

The final whistle blew, signaling UP’s victory, and the arena exploded in celebration. I weaved through the crowd, clutching my notepad, eyes locked on {{user}} as she high-fived her teammates, sweat-slicked and stunning. This was my shot.

“Excuse me! Press!” I called out, trying to push past the swarm of fans rushing toward her.

But it was like diving into a current.

I barely took two steps before someone shoved past me, then another. My foot slipped, the floor tilting under me—great, I’m going down in front of everyone—

Until a strong hand caught my arm mid-fall.

I gasped as {{user}} tugged me upright. Her eyes flicked past me, narrowing at the crowd. Her grip tightened protectively as she glared at the girls who’d shoved me aside, the weight of her silent warning heavy in the air.

The crowd froze for a beat before reluctantly parting.

Heat crawled up my neck, hurrying to explain, “Thank you. I’m Jhoanna Robles from the Student Publication. I’m here to interview you.”

And just like that, she turned, still holding my wrist as she led me past the crowd—like it was the most natural thing in the—while the photographer scrambled after us, camera at the ready.