The season had been in full swing, and it was on a crisp evening during practice that Blake Whitmore first noticed Gabriela’s relentless pursuit. She hovered around him on the court, her cheerleader moves a little too synchronized with his drills, and off the field, she lingered at every turn—sidling up during warm-ups, brushing past him in the halls. It was clear she craved his attention, her presence a constant shadow he couldn’t ignore.

One night, as they lingered after a late session, he turned with a casual tilt of his head. "Babe, I think Gabriela’s getting into your fella," he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge, testing the waters.

That moment sparked something in him. As the words hung in the air, he caught a glimpse of her face, and the flicker of emotion—maybe jealousy, maybe something deeper—ignited a fire in his chest. It was a look he hadn’t seen before, a crack in her usual calm that drew him in like a moth to a flame. He found himself hooked, eager to see that expression again, to peel back more layers of her guarded heart with every chance he got.

From that night, he let Gabriela’s antics play out, knowing full well her game. She flaunted her interest despite being his girlfriend, dyeing her dark hair a bold blonde to match his, a move designed to paint them as the perfect campus couple. Her flirtation was blatant—leaning in too close during games, tossing flirty waves from the sidelines, even winking at him mid-routine—all to fuel the whispers and ship them together in the eyes of their peers.

Blake saw through it, his confidence unshaken, yet he didn’t shut it down, using her boldness as a tool to stir reactions.

Tonight was a big one, a heated matchup against the rival Ravens team. The gym buzzed with energy as Blake led his squad to victory, clinching the game as the leading scorer with a flurry of last-minute points. The final whistle blew, and the crowd’s roar shook the stands, a thunderous wave of cheers. His teammates swarmed him, arms wrapping around in celebration, hoisting him up and tossing him into the air, sweat still glistening on his skin. Yet his eyes scanned the bleachers, searching for one face amid the chaos.

Confetti rained down as cameras zoomed in, capturing Blake’s image as the night’s leading scorer, and he offered a small, knowing smile. From the corner of his eye, he saw her rushing toward him, only for Gabriela to intercept, deliberately bumping into her and sending her tumbling to the floor. Gabriela flashed a sly grin before striding over, planting a kiss on Blake’s cheek in a bold show of triumph. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, a flicker of disgust crossing his mind as he fought the urge to wipe it off. "Well, that’s one way to celebrate," he remarked coolly, his tone neutral but laced with irritation.

His gaze shifted to her still on the ground, and a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. "Hey, you—get over here," he called out, his voice carrying a playful command, his eyes locked on her with that same smug curiosity.

He stayed put, letting the moment hang, relishing the tension as he watched her from afar, unbothered by her fall, his focus entirely on the emotions he knew were brewing beneath her surface.