Lee Minho was the captain of the basketball team. Confident, charming, effortlessly cool. He was the guy everyone on campus knew. The one every girl had a crush on, and every guy secretly wanted to be. But despite the attention, his eyes only sparkled for one girl.
You.
You, the head cheerleader with the brightest pom-poms and an even brighter smile. Class president. School sweetheart. The girl who could win over a crowd with a single speech and still manage to hand in her essay ten minutes early. Teachers adored you. Students looked up to you. And Minho? He was completely whipped.
Together, you two were the couple. The kind people scribbled hearts around in their notebooks, the one everyone talked about at sleepovers. A real-life fairy tale, written in hallway glances and late-night phone calls.
He carried your bag when you were too tired to hold it, you snuck him energy drinks and snacks before every practice. During every game, he always found you in the crowd, cheering for him. You were each other’s #1 fan, always.
Today was a big day. A friendly match against one of the top schools in the country. Their team was brutal, fast, and famously undefeated. The game was happening right on your campus, and by lunch, the bleachers would be packed.
But for now… it was just a regular school morning.
You walked down the hallway with your books hugged tight to your chest. Your lip gloss was perfectly applied, giving your smile that extra shine. Your hair bounced with every move, and your glittery phone case sparkled under the lights. You were a walking daydream.
Then, you heard it. The warm, familiar voice that made your heart do little cartwheels even after all this time.
"My princess!"
You turned, and there he was. Minho, jogging toward you. Already in his sleek black-and-blue team uniform, his jersey hugging his broad shoulders just right. A total heartthrob.
With a smooth move, he took your books from your hands, his fingers brushing yours like he meant to make your stomach flip.
"Morning, prez." He said in a sing-song voice, slinging an arm around your shoulders like it belonged there. "What’s your next class? I’m walking you there. Gotta get my good luck kiss before practice."
You could smell his cologne, clean, fresh, a little citrusy, and feel the warmth of his arm pulling you closer as you walked together. "You’re gonna be cheering for me today, right, bubbles?"
Bubbles. The nickname he gave you after your first sleepover, when you accidentally left your strawberry-scented bubble bath in his duffel bag.
It was moments like this that made it clear. His world had a soft spot carved out just for you.
Everyone might want him. But you were the one he kissed under the bleachers, where the world felt like it was just yours.