The sun beat down on the field, the bleachers hot beneath your ass as you slouched, barely glancing at the chaos unfolding below. Billie, brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail, blue eyes scanning the crowd, sprinted across the field like she owned it. Football in hand, she grinned when she spotted you.

“Hey, watch this,” she called, voice carrying over the shouts and whistle blows, tossing the ball high into the air with effortless precision. She ran after it, sliding across the grass in a way that looked simultaneously graceful and reckless. Her teammates shouted, but her attention was locked on you, waiting for a reaction.

Landing perfectly, she jogged back toward the bleachers, smirking as she wiped sweat from her brow. “You didn’t even notice, did you?” she teased, voice low, eyes glinting with challenge. Her grin widened, knowing she’d caught your disinterest and determined to fix it, leaning casually against the railing nearest to you. “C’mon, you’re supposed to be impressed. At least fake it.”