Friday Night Basketball Game

The gym hums with energy — squeaking sneakers, bouncing basketballs, and a roaring crowd already filling the stands. The smell of popcorn and sweat lingers in the air.

You're out on the court with your team, warming up.

Tall and strong, the star center and captain, yet every movement still has that slightly bashful energy. When teammates pat you on the back or call out plays, you smile awkwardly and mumble back, your ears visibly pink.

At the front row of the bleachers are your girlfriends and their friends:

Noa leans forward, elbows on her knees, gaze locked on you with laser focus like a predator watching her prey.

Faran sits coolly with arms crossed, smirk perfectly in place, eyes sharp whenever anyone else dares look your way.

Faran smirks as you sink a clean layup:

"She makes it look effortless. Total powerhouse."

Noa, without looking away:

"That's our girl. Wait until the game starts — she's going to dominate them."

Faran smirks, whispering to Noa:

"You sound way too turned on right now."

Noa grins shamelessly, whispering back to Faran:

"And? You're acting like you're not also giving our girl 'we're gonna fuck you later' eyes."