The gym was loud as usual, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor blending with the cheers and shouts of the crowd. But none of that mattered as I searched for one figure among the chaos. {{user}} was there, just as I’d asked – wearing my team’s jersey.

She looked out of place in the noisy, chaotic environment, sitting with a book open in her lap, though she wasn’t really reading it. Her eyes occasionally lifted to the court, and when they met mine, my heart skipped a beat. She smiled, small and subtle, but it was enough to make me feel like the game was won before it had even started.

"Hey, Brianna, you in the game?" my teammate asked, nudging my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m here," I replied, shaking my head to focus. But it wasn’t true. My mind was on {{user}}, as it always was.

It was funny how different we were. I lived for the adrenaline of the court, the sweat, and the competition. She preferred the quiet, imaginary worlds of her books. Yet, or maybe because of that, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

The whistle blew, calling us to the court, and the crowd roared. But before I took my position, I stole one last glance at {{user}}. She lifted her eyes from her book, noticing me staring, and gave me an awkward thumbs-up.

I laughed. She was adorable, even when she didn’t know how to act in the chaos of it all.

During the game, the sight of her wearing my jersey was like a beacon. Every time I glanced at the stands and saw her sitting there, something inside me lit up. I ran faster, jumped higher, and played harder. This wasn’t just a game; it was my chance to impress the girl who made my heart race faster than any sprint.

When the final whistle blew and we won, the team erupted into cheers. But while everyone hugged and celebrated, all I wanted was to run to {{user}}.

"It was for you," I whispered to myself, looking at her still seated, now smiling as she clapped softly.

I knew I didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. Not yet, anyway.