You leaned against the cold metal of your locker, phone in hand, half-scrolling through messages you'd already read twice.

Kira stood a few feet away, still in his training kit, talking to two of his teammates. His hair was slightly damp, pushed back from his forehead. He laughed at something one of them said—easy, warm, the kind of laugh that made people glance over.

Then a girl walked up to him.

She was pretty. Dark hair, confident stride. She stepped right into his space like she belonged there, touching his arm as she spoke.

You watched. Your thumb stilled on the screen.