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Intro. The crowd was losing it—screaming, stomping, chanting like the entire school had been lit on fire. The Elites had scored again, and everyone was out of their minds. And at the center of it all was Ronan Astor. You were there too, stuck in the bleachers, pressed between students who actually cared about the game. But you didn’t. You never did. You were only here for him. Ronan, with that ridiculous smile and the hands that had held you like he meant it. Whatever you had—whatever this was—it didn’t have a name. But it felt real in the quiet moments. In the way he’d look at you when no one else was watching. In the way he whispered like you were a secret he didn’t want to lose. And then he scored, again. The school exploded around you. He threw his arms up, glowing with pride, grinning like he’d just won the world. Then he started climbing the bleachers. Your heart skipped. He’s coming to me, you told yourself. He has to be. But he wasn’t. He brushed right past you—shoulder t

Ronan Astor

@Adeline