# Chapter 6:

Melinda's POV

As Olivia and I squeezed into Eagle Stadium, the smell of heating systems and sweat hit me like a wall, while the deafening cheers nearly made me dizzy. The gym was decorated in Pine Ridge's red and black, with almost everyone wearing Eagles team gear. I instinctively tugged at my oversized hoodie, hoping to hide myself better.

"Over here! Over here!" Olivia practically screamed, pulling my arm forcefully as she guided me through the crowd toward the stands.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. My plan was simple: watch the game quietly, then slip away. Last night's encounter with Michael refused to leave my mind, while Jason and Caitlin's betrayal still made my stomach churn.

We finally found seats in the middle upper section. As soon as we sat down, I heard excited girls around us:

"I heard he's using new tactics today, designed specifically for him by the coach!"

"His vertical leap is unbelievable. My friend in sports management says NBA scouts are already watching him."

"I wish I knew his workout secrets, those muscle lines are just perfect..."

My face burned, because I actually knew how those muscles felt. I uncomfortably turned away, forcing myself to focus on my phone, pretending to check emails.

The cheerleaders began their performance, with Caitlin standing front and center, her platinum ponytail tracing perfect arcs, her face wearing a dazzling smile. Seeing her sent a stab through my chest—this was the girl who betrayed me with Jason, now shining before everyone. Each of her movements was graceful and precise, as if heaven had blessed her with a perfect body and unmatched confidence.

"Don't think about Jason or Caitlin," Olivia noticed my expression change and gently squeezed my hand. "They're not worth your time."

I nodded reluctantly, but the bitterness remained. I had so looked forward to going public with Jason, to walking hand-in-hand across campus like other couples, yet he chose betrayal and humiliation.

Suddenly a deafening roar erupted—the Pine Ridge Eagles had entered. Players ran onto the court one after another, cheers and screams rising in waves. Some players approached the cheerleaders, openly kissing their girlfriends. Jason and Caitlin exchanged a look, their intimacy making me sick.

Looking back, Jason had never invited me to his games. Even when I came on my own, he ignored me before and after. I thought he was just focused on the game, but now I understood—he didn't want Caitlin to discover our relationship.

"Here, use this," Olivia handed me binoculars. "So you can see better."

I took them, intending to refuse, but something deep inside urged me to look for Michael. Despite knowing it would complicate things, I couldn't suppress the impulse. Through the binoculars, I scanned the court for his tall figure.

Suddenly, a pair of golden-brown eyes stared directly at me, as if piercing through thousands of people straight to my soul.

Despite thousands of students in the gymnasium, Michael had found me instantly? As if I were his prey. My heart immediately accelerated, cheeks burning as I hastily returned the binoculars to Olivia, pretending to be interested in something else on the court.

Michael turned toward center court, raising his arms to acknowledge the crowd, triggering frenzied screams. His every movement exuded confidence and power, as if he were born for this stage. When the starting whistle blew, I found myself unable to look away.

Michael moved like lightning on the court. His movements weren't merely agile, but like those of an elegant predator. His speed breaking through defenses seemed impossible, his jumps when scoring seemingly defying gravity. Several times, I thought he moved too fast, almost supernaturally. But when I glanced around, no one else seemed surprised—perhaps it was just my imagination.

Halfway through the game, opponents were visibly frustrated. A particularly large opposing captain began targeting Michael, attempting to trip or shoulder-check him.

"Go Michael!" Olivia stood shouting, surrounding girls joining in.

"What's that jerk trying to do?" a girl beside me worried, sitting up straight for a better view.

I held my breath, heart sinking. Though logic told me Michael could protect himself, a surprising protective instinct rose within me.

After Michael sank a beautiful three-pointer, the opposing captain lost control. He slammed the ball down and charged at Michael. The gymnasium fell instantly silent. When the two grappled on court, I unconsciously stood, heart nearly jumping from my chest. The opponent swung at Michael, who only blocked and dodged without retaliating.

In that moment, I realized the pressure and jealousy Michael endured as a star player. Images of our intimate night flashed through my mind, and I found myself worried for his safety, completely forgetting to check Jason's reaction. This feeling was both strange and familiar, confusing yet exciting.

Referees blew whistles and separated them. When Michael stood and readjusted his leather bracelet, the crowd erupted in cheers. The opponent was ejected, and the game continued.

During halftime, the cheerleaders returned for their performance. I felt a cramp in my stomach, suddenly realizing I'd barely eaten all morning due to hangover and emotional turmoil.

"Are you hungry?" I asked Olivia, but she was already deeply engaged with nearby girls, discussing how calm and elegant Michael had been during the conflict. She glanced at me, shrugging carelessly before returning to her socializing.

Having known Olivia so long, I'd grown accustomed to her social skills in these settings. She could easily chat with strangers while I preferred staying quietly aside. I felt a twinge of envy—she always integrated so naturally into crowds, while I remained an outsider.

"I'm getting something to eat, back soon," I said quietly, but she didn't seem to hear. I carefully navigated the narrow aisle between seats, avoiding extended legs and drink cups.

Descending the stands, I was drawn to the food stalls' aromas. My stomach loudly protested, reminding me how long it had been since I'd eaten. The smell of hot dogs and popcorn made me even more aware of my hunger.

"One cheese dog, please," I told the vendor, handing over crumpled bills.

While waiting, a strange feeling crawled up my spine—the sensation of being watched. I turned, my gaze immediately locking onto the edge of the court—those golden-brown eyes again.

He stood with teammates, hydrating and resting for the second half, but his attention was entirely on me. His golden-brown eyes almost glowed under the gymnasium lights, deep and penetrating. As I found myself unable to break from his intense gaze, my heartbeat accelerated, breathing becoming rapid.

For a moment, I felt a strange urge to walk through the crowd toward him. An almost trance-like feeling enveloped me, as if he were calling me with his eyes, and I couldn't resist...

"Miss? Hello? Your food."

The vendor's voice broke my trance. He was holding my hot dog with an impatient expression.

"Oh... sorry," I stammered, "thanks."

I took the food, my heart still beating abnormally fast. When I looked back toward the court, Michael had shifted his attention, as if nothing had happened, now fully focused on discussing tactics with teammates.

I bit into my hot dog, but the food tasted like nothing in my mouth. I stood there, suddenly uncertain. Return to Olivia and continue watching? Or find an excuse to leave?

I made my decision to leave now. I could make up an excuse for Olivia later—a sudden headache or remembered assignment. She'd made new friends and might not even notice my absence. She could tell me the game's outcome later—though I could already guess, with Michael playing, the Eagles were almost certain to win.

As I turned to exit, I couldn't shake the feeling of being followed, as if some invisible force was watching my every move.

I quickened my pace, not looking back, wanting only to reach the safety of my dorm. But no matter how fast I walked, the feeling of being followed remained. As if something—or someone—was waiting in the shadows, observing my every movement. And most unsettling of all, some corner deep inside me vaguely hoped it would catch up.