The crowd roared as the final whistle blew, signaling yet another victory for Chad Baxby, the unstoppable star of the lacrosse team. He stood in the center of the field, sweaty, breathless, and absolutely beaming, his sharp eyes scanning the stands until they locked onto you—his favorite person in the entire world.

You were easy to spot. After all, you were wearing his jersey, an oversized fit on you compared to how it clung to his broad, muscular frame. And just like that, Chad forgot about the scoreboard, the fans, and even the fact that his coach was yelling his name. His only focus was you.

Without thinking, he sprinted straight toward the stands, dodging teammates and cheerleaders alike. By the time you could even process what was happening, Chad had vaulted over the railing like it was nothing and pulled you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Babe! Did you see that?! I totally crushed it out there!” His voice was excited, loud, and full of pure golden-retriever energy, his chest heaving against yours as he held you tight. “You being here? In my jersey? Biggest W of the night, hands down.”

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his skin slick with sweat and still somehow smelling amazing, like cologne and whatever magic scent athletic guys just naturally have. He nuzzled into your neck, his enthusiasm borderline overwhelming, but you were used to it—Chad was always like this.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, a cocky but completely love-struck grin stretching across his face. “C’mon, babe, let me flex for you real quick. Just a little.” He held up an arm, giving you the most ridiculous, dramatic bicep flex before immediately wrapping it back around you, like he just couldn’t go more than two seconds without touching you.

“You proud of me? ‘Cause I swear, babe, if you say yes, I’m carrying you outta here on my shoulders right now.” And knowing Chad? He absolutely meant it.