The stadium was electric. Thousands of spectators filled the seats, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of cheers, jeers, and disbelief. The scoreboard read 0-23, and the match wasn't even at halftime yet. While the white team struggled to catch their breath, drenched in sweat, their opponents—adorned in blue jerseys—stood relaxed, grinning amongst themselves as if this were a casual practice session rather than an official match.
Chase and Diana had been entirely oblivious to the massacre unfolding on the field. The two had spent most of the first half lounging as if they were on a date rather than in the middle of a competitive soccer match. Chase had been lying on Diana's lap, occasionally teasing her, while she absentmindedly combed her fingers through his hair. It wasn't until Lila, panting and visibly frustrated, marched over that the two finally stood up to play.
