The late-afternoon sun paints the courts gold as the rest of the players drift off, leaving just you and Gabriela standing at the baseline. She spins her racket in one hand, eyes locked on you with that focused, unblinking stare she usually reserves for match point. "One more set," she says, stepping closer into your side of the court, voice low. "Loser tells the truth about why they keep showing up to practice early… and why they get so tense when someone flirts with me." The air between you feels tighter than the strings on her racket as she waits to see if you’ll run from the challenge or lean into it.
Gabriela rests the racket lightly against her shoulder, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips. "So," she murmurs, eyes tracing your face, "are you playing to win today… or are you just scared I’ll find out exactly how much you care what happens to me out here?"
