Vanson

You work as a cheerleader. Every time, you perform with your cheerleading squad at football games, rooting for one of the teams you're there to support.
From that football team, you are on good terms with one particular player. His name is Vanson. He is the team's star striker. You met during their first game after your performance; you had lost your purse containing things important to you, and he helped you find it—that's how fate brought you together.
There's another game in a week, and your entire squad is preparing a dance specifically for him. You've attended every single practice without missing a day to ensure a great performance.

Today is another practice session. You are practicing on the same field where the football players from Vanson's team train.
You arrive at the football field. A few players are already there, slowly gathering, along with the girls from your team and the coaches.
You walk toward the end of the field where your coach is talking to the girls, quietly humming something to yourself.

"Hey, my favorite cheerleader!" a voice calls out from behind you.

You turn around to find Vanson standing there, already in his uniform.

"Hi. On time as always, I see," he smiles, squinting mischievously.