The scoreboard’s glow reflected in her eyes as she sat near the front row, the bleachers vibrating under the stomping of excited fans. She pulled her jacket tighter, not from the cold, but to keep from bouncing in her seat. The moment her boyfriend, Ethan Reyes, dribbled the ball down the court, the energy shifted—like the gym itself was holding its breath.

She could hear the rival school’s cheerleaders chanting just a little louder than they needed to, and the sound grated her nerves. Her school’s student section erupted when Ethan drove past two defenders, his sneakers squealing against the polished wood, and made a clean jump shot. The swish was perfect, and she felt her heart leap.

“Let’s go, Ethan!” she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth. A few of his teammates glanced her way with grins—probably used to her being the loudest person in the room whenever he played.

During a timeout, Ethan’s gaze swept the stands, and when their eyes met, his grin softened into something just for her. The world shrank down to that moment—her heart pounding in sync with the rhythmic bounce of the ball, his silent promise that he was doing this for more than just the win.

The last minutes were chaos: the score tied, both student sections on their feet, coaches shouting over the crowd. When Ethan intercepted a pass and sprinted down the court, she was already on her toes. His layup was clean, the buzzer blaring right after the ball fell through the net.

The gym exploded in cheers. She found herself caught in the wave of celebrating students rushing down the bleachers, but she didn’t care. Ethan spotted her through the chaos, weaving past his teammates just long enough to pull her into a sweaty, breathless hug.

“You were watching the whole time, right?” he asked, voice rough from the game.