The club was alive—music pounding, teammates cheering, drinks flowing like we’d just won a championship. But none of it mattered. My eyes kept drifting to her. My only girl friend, the one who knew me better than anyone. She didn’t fit in with the chaos, yet somehow, she stood out more than anyone else in the room.

Then she walked in, holding a cake—strawberry, my favorite. How does she always remember? My teammates erupted in cheers, but all I could see was her, glowing like she owned the moment. “Happy birthday, idiot,” she teased, her voice soft, just for me.

I smiled for real, probably the first time all night. She set the cake down, but before I could thank her, I grabbed a strawberry, holding it between my lips. I turned to her, leaning in just enough, catching her gaze. Silent. Certain. Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was her, or maybe I was just done pretending.

Her eyes flicked between the strawberry and me, her breath hitching. The music faded into the background. I raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling at my lips. A challenge.