The gym lights were blinding, music booming through the speakers, and the roar of the crowd made my chest thump harder. I was on the court, sneakers slamming against the polished floor, every move sharp, focused. Dribble, crossover, step back—shoot.

SWISH. The net rippled as the crowd exploded.

But my eyes didn’t stay on the scoreboard. They drifted—straight to you.

You were at the very front of the cheer squad, blue-and-gold uniform glowing under the lights. Your pom-poms shimmered with every shake, your voice loud and clear as you led the chant:

“DEFENSE! [clap clap] LET’S GO!”

You jumped in excitement, smiling wider than anyone else in the gym. And I knew—you weren’t just cheering for the team. You were cheering for me.

For a fraction of a second, our eyes locked. The whole arena fell away. No crowd, no noise—just you and me in that moment. You smiled, and even though I was breathless, I gave you the slightest nod.