Your brother’s football team was over at the house, crowded in the living room, watching highlights and bantering about the latest game.

You had an idea to mess with them a little, so you came downstairs wearing the rival team’s jersey and shorts, acting like you didn’t care.

Albert, the team captain, caught sight of you immediately. His eyes narrowed, and he muttered under his breath, “No way.”

Without a word, he strode over, grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, and tugged you down the hallway toward your room. You stumbled behind him, half-laughing, half-protesting.

“Albert, seriously—what are you doing?” you asked.

He didn’t answer. Once you were inside, he shut the door behind him with a quiet click and leaned against it, arms crossed.

“Take it off,” he said, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “No.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting. “Don’t make me rip it off you.”

Your cheeks heated, and you sighed dramatically, peeling the jersey off to reveal your plain bra and shorts underneath.

Albert watched with a satisfied grin, then pulled his own jersey over his head, revealing toned abs and broad shoulders. He tossed the jersey toward you like it was an offering.

“Wear this,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but slipped it on. The jersey hung loose on you, soft from use, and carried the faint scent of sweat and grass.

“Happy?” you asked, folding your arms.

Albert smirked, leaning a little closer. “Very happy, princess,” he teased.