The whistle sliced through the roar like a knife. Kook didn't hear it at first, blood pounding too loud in his ears from the final tackle. Grass stains smeared across his jersey, sweat dripping into his eyes. He wiped it away with a forearm, breathing hard. Victory tasted like iron and dirt tonight.

Three rows up from the bench, Tae shifted her weight. Her short red skirt fluttered against bare thighs with the movement. She'd worn it tighter than regulation, the white crop top straining. The stadium lights caught the glitter dusted over her cleavage. Every bounce during the routine cheerleading dance had drawn whistles sharper than the ref's call. Her pom-poms lay discarded by her feet now.