So then he got up from were he was sitting and he picked up a basketball
picked up a basketball and turned to me.
"Can you play?" he asked.
I laughed and shook my head. "Nope."
"Wanna learn?"
"Yes, please," I said without thinking.
He handed the ball to me and stepped behind me. I froze.
He gently placed his hands over mine, positioning them on the ball. My heart skipped. I could feel his warmth on my back, his breath soft against my neck. It was overwhelming—this was the closest we had ever been.
He guided me slowly. "Relax your arms," he said softly, his voice deep and calm.
He held my waist for balance, and for a second, I almost forgot where I was. I had never felt so nervous, shy, and alive at the same time. But slowly, I got into it. I managed to make my first throw, and soon we were both laughing, playing, and running around the court.
We made a couple of successful shots, raced each other around the court at least three times, and kept brushing against one another as we played. Every touch sparked something electric in me. But each time, I reminded myself to keep it cool—even though inside, I was anything but.
After a while, we finally stopped to catch our breath.
It was exciting, awkward, and intense all at once. I couldn't explain it, but I felt butterflies everywhere.
To break the tension, I suddenly threw the basketball—playfully—across his face. It bounced and rolled back toward me. I grabbed it and ran.
"Catch me if you can!" I shouted.
He chased after me, laughing. But before I could get far, I tripped.
I fell hard and gasped as a sharp pain shot through my ankle.
Devon ran to me, still catching his breath.
"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling beside me.
I pretended to be fine. "I'm good," I said, though I clearly wasn't.
He helped me to my feet, but when I tried to walk, I fell right into him—and we both collapsed to the ground.
For a moment, we just lay there, face to face, staring at each other.
Then I remembered myself and quickly jumped off him, flustered. But when I tried to take a step, pain surged through my ankle again—I was limping.
Meanwhile, he was still on the ground, watching me struggle.
From behind me, I heard him ask, "Do you need help walking back to the hostel?"
"No, thank you," I muttered, trying to walk it off.
I took one more step, and before I knew it—he was in front of me.
He swept me off my feet—literally.
He picked me up in his arms.
My heart raced. Our eyes met again. For a second, it felt like something out of a movie. His arms around me, my hands on his chest, our faces inches apart.
We stared at each other, and for a second, I thought we were about to kiss.
I felt so embarrassed. So awkward. But at the same time… I didn't want him to put me down.
He carried me gently, as if I weighed nothing. My arms were wrapped around his neck, and my face was so close to his I could literally feel his breath on my cheek. I didn't know where to look. His eyes? his lips? The ground?
My heart was thudding so loud I was sure he could hear it.
"You're blushing" he whispered.
I looked away quickly. "I'm not"
He chuckled softly. "You are".
We walked in silence for a few moments. I couldn't believe what was happening. This was real. He was real.
As we passed under the dim light near the volleyball court, he looked down at me.
"You know", he said I like hanging out with you
I swallowed hard. "Really?"
He nodded. "You're different. You're real".
I didn't know what to say. No one has ever said anything to me like that to me before. I was quiet the rest of the way, not because i didn't want to talk, but because I didn't trust myself to say anything that would ruin the moment.
When we final got to the hostel gate, he set me down slowly, as if he didn't really want to let go.
"You sure you're okay from here?" He asked.
"Yeah", I said, though my ankle still hurt a little bit. "I'll be fine".
He glanced down at my foot. "You'll probably feel it more in the morning."
I nodded
He stood there for a second longer, then smiled. "Good night, Hazel."
I hesitated. "Good night, Devon."
And just as I turned to walk away, he said, "Text me when you get in, okay?"
I smiled to myself. "Okay."
When I got to my room, the first thing I did was text him:
"I'm in. And thanks… for everything."
I stared at the message for a while before locking my phone. Then I sat down, looked at the yellow sweater still wrapped around me, and hugged it tightly.
That night, I couldn't sleep. Not because of the pain in my ankle… but because of the ache in my chest that came from realizing something:
I was no longer just obsessed with Devon.
I was falling for him.