Page 18

DANIEL

“No, Dad. Please stop exerting yourself,” I whisper-yell as people around me give me looks. I want a break from the hectic environment on the college campus, and I want to form a strategy for the upcoming match. It’s an important one for the team, and being the captain adds extra pressure, so here I am strolling in the garden, trying to find a peaceful spot where I won’t be disturbed.

“I am not doing anything, Daniel. Just picking up some boxes.” He grunts.

“Seriously, can you please give it a break? Ask someone else to do it,” I almost shout.

“Fine, fine. I will give up.” He chuckles. “You’re so much like your mother,” he says gently, sounding nostalgic.

“I know, but I would say I am a milder version. She would have beaten you up by now,” I joke. She wouldn’t have, but she was a strong-willed woman, and no one could say no to her. We had to do what she wanted us to.

“I will let you go anyway. I am a little tired. I will sleep for a while,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, take care, Dad.” I smile as I hear him ruffle around with the bedsheet .

“Yeah, I will, and you do too,” he says. I spot a bench near the lake. It seems to be empty, so I make my way there.

“I will, Dad.” My eyes land on a girl sitting on the nearby bench. She has her hair up in a tight bun, and if I am not wrong—and I don’t think I am because I have noticed her hair too many times—it’s Anya. The amount of times I have wanted to play with her hair is crazy but not crazier than the fact I’ve memorized her features.

I walk a little closer to confirm my suspicion. The smooth and delicate slope of her neck is exposed. Her outfit—a simple sweater and a pair of jeans—seems to hug her body in a flattering but comfortable manner. I see the mole on her right cheek. It’s her. My mood automatically brightens. As I get closer, her scent hits me, and I can’t help but inhale deeply. She’s too engrossed to even notice me as I sit next to her. Her eyes are focused on the book, a constant frown creasing her face. Her lips are slightly parted as if she’s about to say something. Suddenly, she lets out a soft sigh, and a frown appears on her forehead. I could just watch her read a book and be the most entertained and happiest man ever.

I can feel the warmth radiating from her body, and it’s taking all of my self-control not to reach out and touch her. “Hi,” I greet softly, not trying to startle her. Her head snaps up, her eyes widening. She looks at me and her gaze narrows. Almost immediately her attention is back to that damn book.

“Firecracker?” I ask. She doesn’t budge at all, as if I am not here. My brows furrow in confusion. Is she ignoring me? But why would she? I don’t understand. “Anya,” I repeat, trying to gain her attention, but still nothing.

There’s only one way to make her look at me now. I smirk. “Anya,” I say in a sing-song voice. “Anya,” I repeat. “Anya.” I raise my volume this time. She closes her eyes and exhales sharply. A muscle in her jaw twitches and she slowly looks at me, a fake smile plastered on her face .

“What?” she replies in a sing-song voice, her eyebrows raised. She shakes her head. “What is it, captain?”

“I knew you would notice me if I annoyed you somehow.” I chuckle.

“Congratulations. Do you want a prize for it?” she asks, sarcasm dripping from her voice. I laugh, and she rolls her eyes.

“Why were you ignoring me?” I ask, genuinely curious. She folds her arms.

“I was not.” She says, “I was just reading my book. It was an interesting part, definitely more interesting than you.” She smirks. My eyes narrow.

“Ouch, that hurts,” I retort, folding my arms across my chest. I pout and pretend to look wounded, but the corners of my lips twitch with amusement. I can’t help but be amused by her quick wit and sassy response.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

I smile softly. “Just wanted a break, and I seem to relax near water.” And you. “So here I am.” I grin widely. “What about you, Firecracker? You following me or something?” I smirk.

A blush rises to her cheeks. It’s my favorite color and I love it. For someone who hates red, I sure am a hypocrite. “I was here first,” she replies haughtily. “And it will always be a mystery to me how one can be so full of themselves.” She huffs.

“I’m not full of myself; I just have a healthy dose of confidence,” I retort with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes at my cocky response, her arms still folded across her chest. “Confidence or arrogance. Potayto potahto ,” she retorts.

I chuckle, enjoying her witty banter. “You can call it whatever you want, firecracker.”

“So are you enjoying yourself then? I mean, you are having fun by irritating me, but other than that, I mean to ask.” She falters. “I mean, why did you want a break?” I smile at her attempt to hide her concern behind her usual sass.

I lean back against the bench, stretching out my limbs. “Oh, I’m having a good time here. Who needs peace and solitude when I can just bother you?” I reply with a cheeky grin. But her question about the break catches me off guard. I pause for a moment, my smirk faltering slightly before being replaced by a nonchalant shrug. “Eh, I just needed a breather from all the chaos on campus. You know how it is,” I say casually, keeping my tone light. “With power comes great responsibility.” I chuckle. “I am the captain, and I am not used to this, so it’s kind of overwhelming.” I shrug. I look at her, her eyes studying my face carefully.

“You do look tired,” she comments.

“Thanks for the compliment.” I bow. She chuckles.

“I have this important match coming up.” I add. “So, I’m just stressed about that. I don’t usually stress over all this, but it will decide our position in the tournament, so it’s a very significant match.” I sigh, running my hands through my hair. “Hey!” I exclaim, all my focus on her. “Why don’t you come see this match?” I offer. Please say yes , I pray.

Her eyes widen. “You’re inviting me to your match?” she asks, pointing a finger at herself. I nod. She scrutinizes me for a second and then leans back against the bench, her fingers idly playing with a loose thread on her sweater.

“I’ve got a lot of studying to do,” she says.

“Are you kidding me?” I scoff. “You can take a break for a few hours, Anya.” I shake my head in disappointment.

She avoids my eyes. “I don’t know a single thing about basketball. I won’t understand a thing, so it won’t be fun for me honestly,” she mutters. Ah, so that’s the problem.

A small smile appears on my lips. “Who said you need to be a basketball expert to enjoy a game?” I lean in a little towards her, trying to catch her gaze, but she keeps avoiding my eyes, her head bowed down.

“It’s like saying you can’t enjoy a movie because you don’t understand the intricacies of filmmaking,” I say. My voice is soft. “Watching a game isn’t about the technicalities; it’s about the experience. But—” I stand up. She finally looks at me. I grin at her. “Come with me.” I extend a hand towards her, indicating she should take it.

She looks at my hand carefully and raises her eyebrow. “Where?” she asks.

“I will teach you the basics of basketball,” I reply, my enthusiasm evident in my tone. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Why?” she asks, eyes narrowing in confusion. I step closer to her, my hand still held out.

“Why not?” I shrug. “I think you’ll be a quick learner.”

“Why would you do that?” she whispers. “I am sure you must be busy. Let’s leave it.”

“Come on. It will be a practice session for me. I swear if it isn’t fun for you, we will stop.” She relents and finally takes my hand, her slender fingers brushing against mine. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the contact. As I help her up, I note how well her hand fits in mine. I look into her eyes and her breath hitches. That’s how I know she feels it too.

“There’s a basketball court nearby. It’s usually empty. Let’s go there.” Unwillingly, I let go of her hand before she becomes awkward about it. We make our way to the basketball court. I keep glancing at her every few seconds as she talks about the book and the mystery unfolding in it. I listen intently to her every word, hanging onto every detail of the story she’s describing. As she talks animatedly about the book, my gaze drifts from her animated expressions to her lips, the words flowing effortlessly from them. It’s like music to my ears, and I realize I could listen to her talk about anything and never get tired .

As we arrive at the basketball court, Anya looks around. I take a moment to appreciate the crisp, cool air the late evening has brought. The soft, orange glow of the setting sun paints the trees around us in hues of gold and amber. I glance at her. She looks so divine. The familiar sight of the court—worn and well-loved with its faded painted lines and the faint scent of sneaker rubber—fills me with a sense of comfort, my mind already adjusting to this space.

I take a ball from the storage shed near the court, bouncing it from hand to hand. I turn to look at her. “You ready?” I ask with a cocky grin.

“Okay.” She rolls her eyes. “I am learning from the Dr. Dunkalicious himself.” She smirks.

I wince. “I have no idea who came up with that name but God help them if I ever find out.” I exhale sharply. She laughs. She freaking laughs . I don’t care if it is because of me or at me, but if I get to hear that laugh, I will gladly accept that stupid nickname. Maybe tattoo it on my head. I am sure she would find that amusing too.

“What? Are you just going to stand there and gawk?” she questions, folding her arms.

“Yes, I am,” I say truthfully because her mouth opens and a blush creeps up her cheeks. She jiggles her leg. She’s too cute for my heart.

“We-well stop it.” She fumbles. “You look stupid,” she says, her eyes not meeting mine. I chuckle at her flustered self.

“Okay, fine. Now I am not going to go into too much detail.” I dribble the ball as I walk toward her. “Let’s just learn the game process, no technicalities for now, okay?” I ask, and she nods. As I walk closer to Anya, the ball bouncing effortlessly in my hands, I can’t help but appreciate the way her eyes follow its movement. She may be stubborn and snarky, but there’s an eagerness lurking within her that’s hard to miss. “First and foremost, the aim of the game is simple: score more points than the other team,” I explain, passing the ball to her. She fumbles with it and looks at me, her eyes wide with uncertainty. “There are five players from each team on the court. The job is to aim for the hoop.” I aim for the hoop and shoot. “Like that, and the players from other teams have to stop it. That’s all,” I explain. “Well, that’s all you need to understand,” I add.

“Now, your turn,” I say, passing the ball to her again.

“No, I am not doing it. I am telling you I am going to be very bad,” she says, shaking her head.

“Let me help you,” I say as I stand behind her, my chest brushing against her back, my hands settling on her wrists. I move into her space, wrapping my arms around her to adjust her grip on the ball. I can feel her stiffening up a little as I settle behind her, but I continue. “Relax your shoulders,” I murmur, my lips dangerously close to her ear. I can feel her breath hitch as my words register to her. “You need to loosen up a little,” I say gently, my fingers guiding her wrists to the correct position.

“Now, just follow through with the motion,” I say, my words just above a whisper. “You should feel your arm moving forward and extending as you shoot.” I move closer, my body pressing against hers. The warmth of her back is strangely comforting.

“Don’t overthink it,” I murmur, my chin resting on her shoulder. Her skin is soft, the subtle scent of her perfume filling my nostrils. “Just focus and follow through.” I adjust her wrists slightly, my fingers lightly brushing against her hands.

“Just trust yourself, okay?” I murmur, my breath teasing her ear. She swallows, the rise and fall of her chest more pronounced, and there’s a slight tremor in her hands. She gives a short nod in confirmation.

“Good,” I say, my lips just shy of her skin. “You can do this.” I guide her arms, helping her aim. “Now, shoot.” I look down at her. Her cheeks are flushed. I can see she’s trying hard to focus, and I feel my chest swell with pride and probably happiness that I can affect her like this. “See, you did it,” I say, a smile playing on my lips. Her back is still against my chest, and I’m in no rush to pull away. I have the sudden urge to rest my chin back on her shoulder.

“You’re a natural,” I murmur. In an instance, she steps from me, and I almost whine. “I-I think I should head home,” she says. Her abrupt announcement throws me off guard, and I can’t shake the sense of disappointment that washes over me. I want the moment to linger a little longer, but I think I pushed it too far.

“Okay,” I reply quietly. We stand there gazing at each other, my eyes never leaving hers. She’s too breathtakingly beautiful to ever pay heed to anyone or anything else in this world. She bends down to pick up her bag. As she starts walking away, I feel this urgent need to stop her.

“Come to my match, Firecracker. I would love that,” I whisper.

She halts mid-step, then turns slowly, a sarcastic smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t you just invite your cheerleader friend instead?”

I blink, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“You seemed to be having a great time with her earlier,” she snaps, her words sharp, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes.

It takes me a second to piece together what she’s talking about, but then it clicks. Katie. She must’ve seen us talking earlier. Is this what I think this is? If so, I might be the happiest man alive.

I smirk, taking a step closer to her. “What are you talking about?”

She huffs, crossing her arms defensively. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Anya,” I say, dragging out her name as I close the distance between us. “Are you jealous?”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I catch the faintest gasp slip past her lips before she quickly schools her expression.

“No,” she says, though her voice wavers, giving her away.

I lean closer, grinning now. “Were you stalking me, Firecracker?”

She takes a step back, her cheeks burning. “You’re so self-obsessed,” she snaps, her voice rising.

I chuckle, unable to resist it. “If I’m so self-obsessed, why were you watching me?”

“I wasn’t!” she blurts, her tone defensive. “I was just going for a class. Siya was with me, you can-” I put a finger on her lips and lean down to whisper in her ear.

“Don’t over-explain. You're giving yourself away.” She doesn't move, her body stiff but I can hear her fast breathing.

Then, as if she is broken out of a trance she pushes me away, “Shut up!” She yells.

I smile. I love how easy it is to get a reaction out of her. “Why do you care who I was talking to?” I cock an eyebrow. She huffs, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words come out.

“Thought so,” I murmur, my voice dropping lower. “You were jealous.”

Her cheeks flush deeper and she glares at me, her voice laced with frustration. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

She lets out a sharp breath, her hands clenching at her sides. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just-” She shakes her head, “I’ll come to your stupid match. There's the answer to your question. Happy now?”

I grin, stepping back just enough to let her pass. “Ecstatic.”

“And that's not because I like you or something, do you get it? I just have never-”

“Over-explaining again.” I smile smugly. She closes her eyes and exhales sharply. She points a finger at me and opens her mouth but decides against saying anything. She gives me one final look and storms off, her steps quick and sharp, and I watch her go, unable to wipe the grin off my face.

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