The crowd gasped, then went silent for a second — the soccer ball had smacked Gaby right in the face.

Jake flinched from the bleachers, hands halfway in the air like he was about to run onto the field. “Oof,” he muttered under his breath, eyes wide. “That ball had intentions.”

Gaby, standing strong in the goal box, barely blinked. She shook her head once, adjusted her ponytail, and gave a little thumbs-up to her coach. Then she glanced toward the stands and made direct eye contact with Jake, mouthing, “I’m fine!”

Yeah, sure you are.

After the game, when Jake met her by the sidelines, water bottle in hand, he couldn’t help it.

“So… we just not gonna talk about how the ball tried to decapitate you?”

Gaby rolled her eyes, wiping sweat off her forehead with her jersey sleeve. “It didn’t even hurt.”

Jake gave her a look. “Babe, your face did a full slow-mo ripple. I thought I saw your soul leave for a second.”

She laughed and lightly pushed his arm. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic?” he grinned. “The ball apologized mid-air.”

Gaby cracked up and leaned into him, still sweaty and hyped up from the win. “Shut up. I still saved the goal.”