She hadn’t expected her Saturday to end up in a football stadium.

Her phone had buzzed that morning with a short text:

“Got you tickets for today’s game. Home team’s playing. You’ll love it ;)”

She blinked at the message from Liam, the guy she’d been seeing for a few weeks — quiet, funny, annoyingly charming. He always smelled faintly of mint and warm cologne and never talked much about work. She figured he was just some fitness junkie or maybe a personal trainer. Certainly not a football player.

Still, she’d said yes. So here she was.

Wrapped in her jacket, she found her seat early, stadium still half-empty. She glanced down at the field — sunlight bouncing off helmets, players running drills, coaches barking orders. She wasn’t really a sports person, but there was something oddly beautiful about the chaos.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Come to Gate B. One of the staff will meet you :)”

She frowned but followed the instructions. A security guard smiled knowingly when she showed the message and waved her through, handing her a lanyard that read “FIELD ACCESS – VIP” in bold silver letters.

“Lucky girl,” he chuckled. “He’s been talking about this all week.”

“Who?” she asked, but he was already motioning her toward the tunnel.

The sound hit her first — the deep, thunderous cheer of thousands of fans echoing through the concrete halls. The tunnel opened up to the field, and suddenly she was standing on the grass, lights blazing above her, players stretching and laughing, cleats crunching against turf.

Then she saw him.

Helmet off, tall and broad-shouldered, jersey stretched across his frame with his name in bold across the back: HARRISON #11.

Her brain stuttered. Wait. Harrison? As in Liam Harrison — the star quarterback whose posters were plastered all over the city?

He turned. And when his eyes landed on her, that same easy, boyish grin she’d fallen for appeared.

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He laughed, walking toward her, helmet tucked under his arm. “Surprise?”