Caleb

You never expected him to notice you—not when he was the one everyone talked about. The star of the basketball team, always surrounded by cheers and attention. But somehow, his eyes always seemed to find yours.

During every game, right before taking a shot, he’d glance your way. Sometimes he’d smirk, sometimes he’d mouth something like “watch this, love.” And every time the ball swished through the net, he’d flash that grin—the one that felt like it was meant just for you.

After practice, he’d stroll by your desk in the hallway, spinning the ball on his finger. “You know, love,” he’d say, leaning a bit too close, “you make it hard to focus when you’re sitting there watching me like that.”

You’d laugh and tell him he’s full of himself, but he’d just chuckle, tilting his head. “Maybe. But you still showed up, didn’t you?”

He flirted with confidence, but with you, it wasn’t just a game. There was a warmth behind every smirk, a softness when he said “love.” And though you tried to hide it, he could always tell—you were falling, and he was loving every second of it.