"(y/n), why didn't you tell me you play volleyball," Minho, my boyfriend, pesters me.
"You never asked," I tell him as I continue to do my homework. "It's not that exciting anyways."
"What are you talking about? Volleyball is a fucking awesome sport," he screams out. He stares at me from across the table, his homework lay forgotten in front of him.
"Minho, you don't know shit about volleyball," I say while giving him my you're-so-stupid look. "You've never been to a single game in your life, let alone learn the rules." He pouts.
"Is it bad for me to want to learn my girlfriend's sport?" He begins to give me his puppy dog eyes. "I love you therefore I will love this sport."
I blush at that four letter word. How can he say it so casually? I look back down to avoid his stare, but I can still sense it.
"You're so cute when you blush," he says sweetly. That just makes my blush grow. He sighs in affection, then lightly pinches my cheek. "So adorable," he teases.
I slap his hand off. "Stop doing that."
"You know you love it," he teases. "But seriously, let me come to one of your games."
"No, you'll think it's boring. It's just a few girl hitting a ball around," I say.
"Why!? I can cheer you on. I'll get some pointers from people. It'll be great, then we can have a victory make out after," Minho says excitedly with a cheeky smile.
"No, you're not coming to one of my games," I begin to put my papers into my backpack. "We're not having a victory make out." If it was under different circumstances, I would probably laugh about his suggestion. I zip up my bag and sling it onto my back. "I'll see you tomorrow," I call out as I begin to walk towards his front door. I reach for the door nob but a pair of arms wrap around my waist.
"No, stay a little longer. My parents aren't home, yet. We can have a victory make out with out the victory," he softly says from behind me. I giggle at his suggestion.
"I would love to, but I promised my parents I would be home in a few minutes." I slip out of his grip and turn to face him. He had a hint of a pout.
"Can I at least get a good-bye kiss?"
"Yes, you may." I move to quickly peck his lips. Once we came in contact, he rested his hands on my hips and didn't let go. I pull away, but he quickly moves forward to reconnect our lips. This cheeky idiot!
I quickly pull away before he can take it any further. "Bye Minho," I call out as I walk through the door.
"Bye (y/n)!"
-----time skip------
It is the game of the season! (y/h/s/n) is playing our biggest school rivals. The bleachers are crammed with people from both schools. The teams talk in their pregame huddles, speaking of game plans and rotations. A very excited boyfriend of the school lebero, (y/n), sits in the bleachers disguised in a baseball hat tilted over his face.
(y/n)'s mother betrayed her and told Minho of the upcoming game. He prepared for this night for a good two days. He made a sign with (y/n)'s name and number and researched some basic rules on the sport. He is ready to be the best god damn cheerleader he could be!
The starters got into their rotation on the court as the down ref checked to make sure it was correct. Once he gave the all clear (y/n) jogged onto the court and switched with a girl in the back row. The up ref blew his whistle and the game began.
The first serve went to the home team (your team). Their first server went up for serve. The gym is silent. The ball flies over the net the the opposing team. The set up is simple enough.
