-; finally falling

- ; four

Jade found her seat pretty quickly and thankfully, quick enough before the lights began to dim and music began to play inside the arena.

The introduction of the team was no joke. People were either booing or hyping players up but she didn't care. She didn't even bat an eye at the hall of famers. All she cared about was number 19.

"How'd it go?" Leigh-Anne whispers as the singer takes a seat beside her, sandwiched between her, Tom, and this guy named Harry that the boy had introduced.

(Apparently, this Harry guy and the rest of the team, or the front office, has no idea that she and Perrie were 'dating,' so this makes a lot of things complicated for them.)

Jade hums, "What?"

"With Perrie."

"It was good." She shrugs, making herself comfortable when her manager raises an eyebrow, "Good?"

"I hugged her and wished her luck."

"That's it?"

"What else did you want me to do? Make out with her?" She asks, tilting her head with a smirk when her friend's eyes widen, "Well, no." She admits. Honestly, she expected them to walk in silence and fuck it up, looks like they're fine.

And as if reading her mind, Jade sighs, squeezing her hand, "We did great, you have nothing to worry about."

Leigh-Anne smiles at that. They both sat in silence for a while, listening to the players being announced when finally, the announcer had reached Perrie.

"At guard, standing at 6 feet, all the way from the UK — the Princess of Los Angeles, number 19, Perrie Edwards!"

Perrie begins walking, hitting every hand as she walks to the starting lineup. Her smile had now faded, exchanged with a very determined look. Her blue eyes weren't filled with nervousness and the playful glint it always held had now dimmed, replaced by something more fiery. Something more intense.

"The 'Princess of Los Angeles?'" She asks, chuckling slightly when Harry, who she was just introduced to a few minutes ago, pipes in the conversation, "That's her nickname. Like how LeBron's the King."

She nods her head.

The game begins within minutes and half of it, she was either waving at cameras, saying hi to fans or cheering the Lakers on, especially Perrie, for every basket they make.

"Edwards, driving to the basket, open for a dunk—blocked by Ayton!" She watches as Perrie falls on the ground, clutching her head and wincing in pain. She was nearly up on her feet when Tom pulled her back gently.

"Is she alright?" She asks, genuinely concerned for the player as she stays on the floor. Perrie's manager — Tom, sighs, "If she doesn't get up in the next five seconds and the team starts surrounding her, she's not."

He sounded just as concerned as she was, maybe even more, and they were both on the edge of their seats until her teammates helped her up. She doesn't look too good but she's standing with a little smirk, so that's great.

"Thank god." She hears Leigh whisper in relief as Perrie stood at the line, shooting her free throws when Harry shifts in his seat, "She has a bit of a rivalry with this team."

"What?" She asks, interested, the guy narrows his eyes, finding a player from the other team before pointing to him subtly, "It's not a Lakers rivalry it's... you see that player?"

Nodding her head, Jade hums, "Yeah."

"He was an ass to her. A bit on the sexist side, so she took things personally and every single time she played them, she went insane." He finishes explaining and Jade suddenly felt anger coursing through her veins.