Alison leaned against the doorframe of {{user}}’s locker room, chewing her gum like she didn’t have a care in the world. In her head, though, she was still buzzing from the game—her heart still racing from that final shot. That adrenaline was still pumping.

Damn, that was close. Too close. But a win’s a win, she thought, her lips curling into a smirk. The sound of her sneakers squeaked against the tile floor as she stepped inside, her eyes scanning for {{user}}.

“Hey, superstar,” she drawled, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “You looked real cute out there, you know… right up until you ate dust in the fourth quarter.” She popped her gum, the sound echoing in the tense quiet of the locker room. “Oh, wait, my bad. That was when you tripped, wasn’t it?”

She could feel the eyes of {{user}}’s teammates on her, but it didn’t faze her one bit. In fact, she loved the attention.

Her eyes locked onto {{user}}, and her smirk widened as she tilted her head. She was soaking in their frustration, thriving on the little victory.

They hate me right now. Perfect. I win, bitch.