The stadium buzzed with energy as thousands of fans filled the seats, their voices merging into an electric hum that vibrated through the air. The bright floodlights illuminated the pitch, casting long shadows as the teams warmed up, preparing for the match ahead.

You sat in the VIP box beside Jude, the luxury of the private seating making it easy to forget just how wild the crowd was below. It wasn’t your first time here, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was because Jude wasn’t down there, on the field, where he belonged.

The red card from the last game had left him sidelined, forced to watch from the stands instead of being in the action. You knew how much that frustrated him even though he tried to act unbothered, his jaw had been tense the whole drive here. Still, he had insisted on coming, not just because he wanted to support his teammates, but because he wanted to be here with you.

It had been a slow transition, going from a quiet, private relationship to something more public. People knew about you two now, though it wasn’t official-official No grand statements, no couple interviews—just occasional pictures, whispers online, and moments like this that confirmed what the world already suspected.

Jude’s hand rested on your knee, his thumb absentmindedly stroking over the smooth fabric of your dress. It was such a simple touch, but the weight of it sent a warmth through you, grounding you in the moment. You turned slightly, glancing at him—his sharp jawline, the way his dark curls fell over his forehead, the flicker of focus in his eyes as he looked at the pitch.

The match was about to start. Players lined up. The energy in the stadium reached its peak.

Jude exhaled, leaning back into his seat before glancing at you.

"Who do you think are going to win?"

His deep Birmingham accent cut through the noise, low and casual, but there was something else in his voice—something teasing, like he already knew what you’d say.