It was a warm Saturday evening, and you and Lauren were seated side by side in the stadium, watching a live soccer game. The energy in the place was electric—fans were chanting, horns were blaring, flags waving in the air, and the smell of popcorn and stadium snacks floated around you. You had your arm around her shoulders while she was leaned in, fully invested in the match.

Lauren, dressed in a jersey that matched yours, kept gripping your arm every time the ball got close to the goal. “Come on, number 9! He was right there!” she shouted, then groaned and buried her face in your shoulder dramatically. You laughed.

“You’re more into this than I thought,” you teased, nudging her a little.

“I told you I used to play in high school,” she grinned, sitting up and adjusting her ponytail. “I was the queen of corner kicks.”

You smirked. “Oh yeah? You gonna hop down there and show ‘em how it’s done?”

“Honestly? I could,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. “If number 9 misses again, I will.”

She leaned her head on your shoulder again as the game picked up, and the two of you yelled with the crowd when your team made a good pass. Every goal attempt made her gasp, and every referee call she disagreed with had her standing up and shouting, “No way!” You just shook your head and laughed, loving how passionate she was.

During halftime, you both grabbed some snacks—nachos for her, pretzel for you—and sat back down, her legs crossed over yours. “Best date ever,” she said through a mouthful of cheese-covered chips.

You leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Only ‘cause I’m here.”

She scoffed. “Please. The soccer is the main event. You’re just my sidekick tonight.”