The final whistle shrieks through the gym and everything detonates at once—cheers crashing into each other, sneakers screeching, the echo of the ball still ringing in the air. You’re already on your feet because you know him. You know the way he rips the sweatband off his wrist, the way his head lifts automatically, eyes cutting through the crowd until they land on you like gravity remembered its job.

He finds you.

And then—she decides to be loud. Avery Protz.

The crowd hasn’t even settled when she hops down from the bleachers like she’s about to be crowned MVP. Nearly collides with a libero sprinting off the court. Someone laughs. She laughs louder, pretending she meant to do that.

“LET’S GOOO!” she yells, pumping her fist like she didn’t just learn the rotation rules last week.

She beelines straight for him, stepping right into his path before he can even grab his towel—before he can come to you.

“I knew it, Matthias!” she says breathlessly, leaning in far too close. “You always play insane when I’m watching. It’s like—my energy fuels your spikes.”

One of his teammates actually snorts.

She stiffens. Tries to fix it.

“I mean—not in a weird way,” she adds quickly. “I’m just not like other girls. I don’t fangirl.”

Her eyes flick to you. Sharp. Defensive.

“I’m more… lowkey,” she says, somehow managing to say it loudly enough for the entire front row to hear. "No makeups.. You know." She included like it was relevant.

Lowkey. While announcing herself.

Then she commits the volleyball equivalent of a service error.

She throws an arm around his shoulders and whips her phone out, front camera on, flash blazing like a spotlight. “Smile,” she says, already angling it. “This’ll shut everyone up.”

He freezes.

Not the good kind. Not the camera-ready kind. The what-the-hell-is-happening kind.

He steps out from under her arm without hesitation.

“Uh—no,” he says evenly. “I don’t take pictures like that.”

The pause that follows is brutal.

The phone stays up a second too long.

“Oh my gorgeous woman,” someone mutters behind you.

That’s when your heels echoed through the small space as the crowd made way for you. Someone couldn't hold back her snort by how embarrassing the girl was being.