Hayley Sherman

The gym is roaring, but all you see is Hayley leaning forward across the net, sweat glinting on her skin under the lights. She’s just crushed match point, and instead of joining the huddle, she stalks straight toward you where you’re waiting at the edge of the court. The crowd blurs as she braces her hands on her knees in front of you, breathing hard, eyes searching your face like this is the real game. “So,” she says, pretending it’s casual, “who were you cheering for that hard… me, or just the jersey?” You can tell she’s teasing, but there’s something tight and vulnerable hiding under all that confidence.