ALEXANDER
The whistle split the air, and the ball hit the ground hard enough to echo. My legs moved before my brain did—automatic. Sneakers scraped the court, heat rising from the asphalt as I chased the play. Ryan was right there with me, grinding his teeth like this was the NBA finals instead of another school-period game.
Typical Ryan—always acting like someone was watching scouts in the bleachers.
"Worthington, you're too fucking slow!" Theo yelled behind me.
I smirked, cut left, and intercepted the ball before Ryan could get his hands on it. "Funny, coming from a guy who sprints like he's got hemorrhoids."
The sidelines erupted. Theo flipped me off mid-run.
I launched the ball forward. Joshua caught it clean—smooth, sharp, like he'd been born on a court instead of a baseball field. One quick pivot, a jump, a stretch—ball swished through the net.
Cheers broke out. Even I had to bite back a grin.
"Jesus Christ, Joshua," Mason wheezed, hands on his knees. "Save some glory for the rest of us."
Joshua just shrugged, quiet as usual, jogging back with that calm grin. He never said much, but when he played, the kid didn't need to.
The game blurred—Theo trash-talking like it was a sport of its own, Mason making noises like he was giving birth every time he jumped, Ryan throwing himself into people like he was auditioning for the NFL. Caleb? Cool, steady, eyes everywhere. And Joshua? Still playing like he had something to prove.
By the time the whistle blew for the end, we were all gasping, drenched in sweat, sprawled across the court like dead soldiers.
I dropped onto the ground, dragging my shirt across my face. Theo collapsed beside me, groaning.
"Fuck, Worthington," he panted, "you run like you've got the IRS on your ass."
I tilted my head, deadpan. "Better than you—running like you're late to your own colonoscopy."
The guys howled. Mason landed next to us, Ryan slammed himself down like he wanted to crack the floor open, and Caleb just leaned back, calm as ever. Joshua lingered, then sat too, running a hand through his hair.
"You play like a demon," Mason told him. "What the hell are they feeding you?"
Joshua chuckled once. "Not cafeteria food, that's for sure."
The laugh that rolled out of us was sharp and easy. Even Caleb cracked a grin.
Ryan pointed at him. "You barely play all year, then you pull this off on the court? Where the fuck have you been hiding?"
Joshua shrugged again, grin tugging at his mouth. "Same school as you. Just blame coach."
Theo barked out a laugh. "Holy shit, joshua got bite."
That earned Joshua another round of laughter, and even I smirked. But true to form, he didn't hang around once the noise started shifting. After a few more jabs and nods, he gave us a small wave, stood up, and walked off toward the lockers.
As soon as he was gone, the circle pulled tighter. Mason leaned back, smirk plastered on his face. "Speaking of bite—boys, I'm throwing a party this weekend."
Ryan's head snapped up. "What kind of party?"
Mason grinned. "My sister's birthday."
Theo immediately smirked. "So… will there be women?"
Mason groaned. "She's fifteen, dumbass."
I shook my head, deadpan. "Yes, Theo. Underaged. You fucking pedio."
The circle roared, Theo flipping me off while trying not to laugh.
"Fuck you, Worthington," he shot back. "At least I don't look like I'm trying to seduce the ref every time I run."
"Oh yeah?" I tilted my head. "At least the ref's legal."
That set them off again. Even Caleb shook his head with a smile.
Ryan leaned forward, wiping sweat off his brow. "So Mason, you seriously throwing a real party? Or just cake, candles, and your aunt clapping off-beat?"
"Real one," Mason shot back. "Music. Drinks. Shit you probably shouldn't tell your mom about."
Theo let out a whistle. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
Ryan smirked, jabbing a finger at him. "Theo, try not to fuck the piñata."
The laughter doubled.
I leaned back, letting their noise fill the air. Typical. Loud, sweaty, chaotic. Boys being idiots, and me—right in the middle of it.
AVALINE
The cafeteria smelled like melted cheese and overcooked fries. Not exactly appetizing, but I was too relieved about not looking like death warmed over today to care. A shower, a decent breakfast, and concealer had done miracles. I smoothed the hem of my cardigan as I scanned the room, trayless since I'd brought food from home.
Sure enough, there they were. Bella and Josh sat at a corner table, heads bent toward each other, the kind of posture that would've looked romantic if you didn't know them. But I did. Those two couldn't talk for five minutes without some kind of battle breaking out.
As if on cue, Josh flicked something—a crumb? a pea?—at Bella's hair. She swatted him with a napkin, mouth moving fast, probably threatening bodily harm. He just leaned back, grinning like an overgrown child.
When Bella spotted me, her whole face lit up. "Avi! You're alive!" she announced, standing up halfway like she might fling herself across the table.
Josh twisted in his seat, smiling so hard it looked painful. "Look who decided to rise from the ashes."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help grinning. "Nice to see my near-death experience makes you both comedians."
Josh's grin softened as he gave me a once-over. "Seriously though, how're you feeling?"
"Fine. A little fine. But at least I'm protected." I deadpanned it, but the look on Bella's face nearly made me crack.
She laughed so loud half the table beside us turned. "Protected?"
I slid into the seat across from them, shaking my head as I reached into my bag. "Well, I figured honesty is the best policy. And since my mom's lasagna is also the best policy…" I pulled out a neat container, flipping the lid open to reveal golden layers of pasta and carefully packed salad.
Bella made a face at her own plate, which looked like the cafeteria's finest attempt at chicken nuggets, limp fries on the side. "Switch with me."
"Not in this lifetime," I said, spearing a piece of lettuce.
Josh smirked, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth like it was proof of superiority. "See, Bella, this is why she's the responsible one. You and I are destined for early heart attacks."
Bella sniffed. "Correction: you are destined for an early heart attack. I plan on living long enough to boss around my grandkids."
"You'll probably be yelling at the nurses in the retirement home," Josh shot back.
"You'll be the old man hogging the TV remote and watching baseball reruns."
I burst out laughing, nearly choking on my salad. They both turned to look at me like they'd forgotten I was sitting there. "What? Don't stop on my account. This is better than Netflix."
"Exactly." Bella smirked and popped a nugget into her mouth. "Speaking of entertainment, guess what happened in science today?"
Josh groaned, already burying his face in his hands. "Don't. Please don't."
That made me curious. I leaned forward. "What happened?"
Bella's eyes sparkled. "Our teacher was doing a demo with chemicals—nothing explosive, unfortunately—and guess who mixed the wrong solutions because he was too busy flexing his pen-spinning skills?"
I gasped, hand flying to my mouth. "No."
"Yes." Bella smacked Josh on the shoulder. "Mr. I'm-So-Cool created a foam volcano all over the desk. The whole class was in hysterics."
Josh lifted his head slowly, glaring. "It wasn't a volcano. It was… a minor overflow."
"You nearly gave the teacher a heart attack," Bella corrected.
I couldn't hold it in. My laugh came out high-pitched, echoing too loudly. "Josh, you of all people…"
He slumped in his chair. "Glad my humiliation is everyone's entertainment."
"Don't worry," Bella said sweetly. "I'll be reminding you about it at your wedding toast."
I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin, still giggling. "At least you weren't in art today. You'd have hated it."
Josh perked up, curiosity replacing his sulk. "What happened?"
"Well," I said, spearing another bite of lasagna, "our model for sketching brought her cat. And guess who decided to pose on everyone's drawing paper instead of the platform?"
Bella's eyes widened. "No."
"Yes. Total chaos. Half the class was chasing the cat, the other half was sketching it mid-run like it was the Olympics. My drawing just looks like a furry potato."
Josh choked on his fry, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. "A furry potato!"
Even Bella cracked up, nearly spilling her soda. "Please bring that masterpiece tomorrow. I need proof."
"Absolutely not," I muttered, but I was smiling.
The laughter died down a little, and for a moment we just chewed in comfortable silence. Then, Josh, ever the conversation saboteur, leaned back and asked, "So… you still seeing Alex?"
The piece of lasagna on my fork suddenly felt ten times heavier. I shrugged, forcing casual. "What choice do I have? Mr. Dawson glued us together. Like some twisted social experiment."
Bella made a face like she'd bitten into a lemon. "Avi, this is the worst way I've ever seen you."
I put my fork down, sighing. "Look, I pray he has some sense, okay? That he'll just let us work together, submit the thing, and stop talking. And most importantly—stop acting like a baby."
That got them both laughing again, and the knot in my chest loosened.
Trying to steer the subject, I looked at Josh. "Anyway, how's training going? You've got a match soon, right?"
Immediately, his whole demeanor shifted—pride lighting him up. "We're training so well. Everyone's in sync, no drama, no injuries. We're basically unstoppable right now."
Bella smirked. "Wow, modest much?"
"I'm just stating facts," Josh said, puffing his chest. "You should come watch, Avi. We're gonna crush them."
"Only if you promise not to create another volcano on the field," I teased.
He groaned, Bella cackled, and somehow the conversation spiraled into jokes about his running form, Bella claiming she could out-sprint him in heels, and me nearly spitting out my juice at the thought.
For a while, it was just easy. Lighthearted. The kind of moment that made me forget about deadlines and responsibilities.
But then, mid-laugh, my brain betrayed me. I thought of Noah. I hid the smile tugging at my lips by stabbing another bite of salad. No way was I letting Bella sniff that out.
Instead, I let my thoughts drift toward Alex. Ugh. The project. Just a few more days left, and we'd barely started. And like it or not, I had to meet him after school. The thought sat heavy in my stomach, even as I forced myself to keep laughing with my friends.
Because laughter was easier than thinking about Alexander Worthington.