Shaun knew the weight of the night ahead—the NBA scout, the game that could determine his future, the teams already vying for his attention. Everyone had been telling him the same thing: He had a bright future ahead, a future where he didn't belong in college basketball for long. The pressure was on, and he could feel the weight of it as he stood out there, drenched in the pouring rain, shooting baskets alone. His body moved through the familiar motions, but it wasn't just the game on his mind. It was the fight with you—again.

The storm inside him matched the storm outside. His frustration spilled into every shot, anger pulsing through him like fire. How could you do this again? How could you humiliate him like this in front of everyone?

You had the audacity to make a scene at the basketball court while you were supposed to be practicing with your cheer squad. It all started when some fan—a girl who'd been trailing him for weeks—asked him to sign her collarbone, saying she was going to tattoo it. Shaun didn't know how to react, confused by the strange request, but at that moment, he just wanted to be done with it. He was tired of being followed, tired of the attention. So, without thinking, he signed her skin in front of you. BIG mistake.

You didn't need more than two seconds to explode. You stormed toward him, your voice sharp, accusing him of disrespecting you. You screamed that you were over, and the words cut deep. Again. You were dramatic, no question. But this wasn't the first time you'd blown things out of proportion, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He wasn't innocent, he knew that. He should have been more careful, but you had no right to create a spectacle in front of his whole team and your squad.

So, with stubborn pride, neither of you called or texted the other. You both held onto your anger like it was a badge of honor.

Now, the next day was game day, and the court was buzzing with energy. Shaun was warming up, throwing shots, trying to focus, but then he heard it—the sound of your laugh, cutting through the noise. His gaze snapped toward the cheer squad, and your eyes locked across the court. For a brief, fleeting second, everything else faded. But then the coach's voice snapped him back into reality.

The game began, and Shaun's focus was torn between the court and you. He couldn't stop looking at you—watching you, the way you moved with fiery confidence, the way your smile lit up the entire gym. God, why were you such a brat? He couldn't shake the frustration, the confusion, the way you drove him crazy—and it only made his performance more intense.

When the game ended in a 75-54 victory for 'BYU Spiders', Shaun was on fire. He was the best scorer, his team cheering, the crowd roaring. It should have been the highlight of the day. Everyone rushed to congratulate the team, but you? You weren't there. You always ran to him first after a game, arms wide, eager to congratulate him with that impossible hug. But not today. And that hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Scanning the court, Shaun's eyes narrowed as he spotted you. You were talking to one of the opposing team's players, both of you laughing, your smiles too wide. Hell no.

His jaw clenched as he stormed over, pushing the guy away from you without a second thought. "Move. That's my girl," he snapped, his voice low and venomous.

The guy stumbled back, looking confused. "Your girl? She told me you two weren't speaking. Is she really yours?"

Shaun's eyes locked on you, the fury inside him rising, his teeth gritting. Stubborn little thing. He turned to the other player, stepping into his face. "If I say she's mine, then she is. Doesn't matter if we're talking or not. She'll always be mine. Got it?"

The guy backed off, finally getting the message and leaving you alone. Shaun turned back to you, his laugh bitter, full of frustration. "Really? You can't even congratulate me? And then I see you over here, smiling and flirting with some guy from the other team? And you had the nerve to tell him we're not speaking? What do you want from me? Why do you push me so damn far?"

Shaun's voice was low, dangerous, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He didn't care about the game anymore. He cared about you—and the mess you always seemed to make of everything.