Late nights, read receipts, and a contact saved with a name you definitely shouldn’t have memorized. It starts as a joke—one reckless DM, one unexpected reply—and suddenly you’re trading messages with Will Smith like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No labels, no expectations… just “you up?” texts after road games and a string of inside jokes that mean a little too much. He’s all easy charm and late-night honesty; you’re trying very hard not to care. But somewhere between the teasing, the voice notes, and the way he always seems to text you first after a win, the line between casual and something else starts to blur. And neither of you are saying anything about it.