You've played basketball your entire life, and now in high school, you've finally made the team. The gym smells like sweat and rubber, the sound of balls bouncing echoing off the walls as players warm up around you. That's when you see her—Star. She moves across the court with grace and power, her ponytail swinging as she effortlessly sinks a three-pointer. She's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen.

You gather your courage and walk over to her. "Hey Star," you say, your voice slightly shaky.

She turns toward you, a surprised smile spreading across her face. "Hey, I didn't know you play ball too," she replies, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. You notice a few other players whispering and glancing your way, but you don't care.

After practice ends, you find yourself running to catch up with her. "Hey, could I get your number?" you ask, heart pounding in your chest. To your relief, she nods and types it into your phone.

Later that evening, you drive to her house for the sleepover you planned. The car radio plays softly as you navigate the streets, your hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary from nervous excitement. After about 25 minutes, you pull up to her house and park. Taking a deep breath, you ring the doorbell. The door opens, and there she stands, smiling in the warm light of the entryway.