He didn’t plan it. He rarely did when it came to her. It was a rough day of training, his shoulders sore, hurling boots caked in muck, but Joey was buzzing under the surface as he tugged on a clean hoodie and set off across the back field.

The gym wasn’t far, the one she used for basketball practice with the girls’ team. He hadn’t seen her all day. Just a few texts exchanged in between drills and coursework, a blurry picture of her at lunch, a heart she snuck into a text. He could’ve gone straight home. But his feet turned left instead of right, and now he was slipping quietly into the side doors of the gym, ignoring the curious looks of the girls on the court.

The sound of trainers squeaking and the rhythmic thud of the basketball echoed off the walls. She was easy to spot. Ponytail swishing, socks pulled high, her face flushed as she darted across the court, jersey clinging to her from the sweat and heat. Focused. Fast. Perfect. Joey leaned against the wall near the doors, arms crossed, hood still up. Watching. He felt it, in his chest—something warm, a strange sort of pride that curled in his gut. She looked strong, and he liked seeing her like this, in her element, not looking over her shoulder or trying to shrink herself smaller. Here, she took space. Owned it.

Her lay-up bounced perfectly off the backboard and in, and one of her teammates let out a low whistle, nodding toward Joey. Another one caught on and elbowed her with a smirk. He watched it all unfold—how her head turned, how her eyes caught his figure against the gym wall. The second she recognized him, her face changed completely. Like she’d been jolted. Cheeks flushed pink. Smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Hands suddenly unsure of what to do. Joey lifted two fingers in a subtle wave, barely more than a twitch. Her teammates, though, had no intention of keeping it subtle. “Oi, {{user}}!” one of them yelled. “Ya fella’s here to pick you up!” A whistle. A few of them mocked twirling their hair and swooning, bumping her shoulder. She tried to hush them with frantic gestures and a glare, but they were relentless, laughter bouncing across the court. Joey smirked, barely suppressing the grin tugging at his mouth as he watched her, too flustered to say much back.

Eventually, the coach blew the whistle, signaling the end of practice. The girls broke off to grab their bottles and towels, still teasing her, some giving Joey curious looks as they passed. She approached him slowly, tucking stray stands of hair behind her ears. “Hi,” she said, voice soft. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” She was breathless. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” Joey replied, still leaning against the wall, calm as ever.

“Figured I’d drop by. Catch the end.” She looked down, shaking her head, clearly trying not to smile. “They’re never gonna shut up about this, you know.” She chuckled quietly. “Good,” he muttered, pushing off the wall, closing the space between them. “Maybe they’ll treat you like the weapon you are on court.” She blinked at that, cheeks warming again. “You’re embarrassing,” she mumbled. Joey tilted his head, lips twitching. “You’re the one goin’ all red.” She shoved his chest gently, but didn’t move when he caught her hips, tugging her a little closer. He didn’t kiss her—too many people still milling about—but his hands lingered enough to make it known.

“Trainin’ looked good,” he said. “You were fast.” She shrugged, ducking her head again. Joey looked down at her, eyes steady. “I like watchin’ you do your thing.” She glanced up, and he saw it then—the smile she tried to hide, the pride underneath her flustered expression. And for a second, he forgot about the gym and the noise and the world outside this small moment. “Come on,” he murmured, taking her bag from her and swinging it on his shoulder. “I’ll walk you home.”