Travis didn't complain or anything, but it's obvious he doesn't want me sitting beside him. Aagain, same.
So here's the seating sitch: Travis is my seatmate. Ryan's in front of him. In front of me is Twan, who's seated next to Ryan. There's a space beside Twan so the teacher can pass, and across that sits James, with no one behind him. Lucky bastard.
After Mr. Saejima finished discussing our weekly class schedule, it finally clicked: this school wasn't like your usual school. Sure, we had Math, English, and Science... but this place was designed for athletes. Like, future pro-level athletes. No wonder everyone looked like they came straight out of a sports anime.
I was jotting down the schedule on the board when the door slid open. It's Minho.
"Minho, you're late. Again. first day of classes eh" Mr. Saejima said.
Minho didn't even respond. He just strolled in and flopped down next to the goth-looking guy at the back like he owned the whole damn school. Everyone acted like this was just... normal? He was 45 minutes late!
After another 45 minutes, the bell rang. We had a twenty-minute break, or "recovery period" (recess) as the sporty folks call it. I decided to find my locker, which was chaotic because almost every guy I passed acted like they'd never seen a girl in real life.
Thankfully, Ryan offered to walk with me. I never thought I'd be so grateful for a chill dude.
As soon as we arrived at my locker, I thanked Ryan for helping me out. "My locker's beside yours. What a coincidence," he said, flashing a grin.
I smiled and nodded. "That's... good to know."
I took a look at my next class and nearly groaned out loud. Track.
That meant laps around the field—each timed. I don't run. I walk dramatically. There's a difference.
"You okay?" Ryan asked, noticing the face I made.
"Yeah. Just—Track." I replied.
"You'll do fine. Just pace yourself."
As I closed my locker, Ryan asked, "You wanna hang out with us later after class?"
"Where?" I replied.
"Not far. A few blocks from school. Maybe grab something to eat."
"I'm trying to save money," I said, using my go-to polite excuse. (Translation: I'd rather not third-wheel a whole squad of sporty dudes.)
"Don't worry, it's Twan's treat," Ryan added.
Dang. So much for that plan.
"So.. Are you going or not?" Ryan asked again.
"I don't know... I'll see if I can," I mumbled.
Ryan just smiled. "No pressure. Just thought I'd ask."
We chatted more on the way back. For someone I just met yesterday, Ryan felt easy to talk to. There was something grounding about him.
"Are you alright, Elise? You kinda spaced out," he said, holding the classroom door open for me.
"Yeah," I said. Before he could follow up, his phone rang.
He answered it, saying: "Yes?... Right now?... Where? Okay." He hung up and looked at me.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"It's—"
"Move it," Minho muttered as he shoved between us. No 'excuse me,' no nothing.
"Dude," Ryan called out. "I just got a call."
"From who?" Minho replied.
"You know... the thing."
Minho rolled his eyes. "I'm not going. I already got enough bruises this week."
"Then I'll go instead," Ryan shrugged. "Catch you later, Elise."
"Wait—where are you going? Class is just about to start."
"Somewhere," he grinned and ran off.
That left me... vulnerable. The moment Ryan disappeared, I could feel them—three tall boys, blocking my path like NPCs in a bad dating sim.
"Hi," one of them said, inching closer.
"Uh, excuse me please," I muttered, trying to get through. One of them blocked me, and I accidentally bumped into his chest.
He towered over me. Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. And a smirk I didn't like.
"You want something?" I asked with narrowed eyes. But, before he could answer, a familiar voice called out.
"Elise!" It was Twan. Thank God.
He stood there waving with James beside him.
"Ugh, it's Park and Monroe," the tall guy muttered before walking away—but not without flashing a grin at me.
What the hell was that about? Anyways, moments later, the bell rang again. Track time.
We changed into our jerseys and assembled on the field. Mr. Saejima explained the deal—three laps, five minutes, or you fail (not literally).
I psyched myself up. I got this.
Thirty seconds in...
I don't got this!
Almost everyone else was done with lap one and I was still catching my breath on the first lap. Minho and Twan sprinted past me, racing each other like it was the Olympics. Minho bumped into me on the way. Almost knocking me off my feet.
"Too slow, dumbass!" he yelled back at Twan, oblivious of my presence.
Twan laughed and shouted, "Let's see who the real dumbass is!" before slapping Minho's butt.
Honestly... that was a sight.
But no time to admire. Mr. Saejima yelled, "One minute left!"
I tried to push myself harder, but my chest tightened. My breath caught in my throat. Everything started to spin. My legs gave out. The last thing I remember was the sky.
And then—
...
...
...
A buzzing phone woke me up. But... this wasn't the infirmary. I was in my dorm room. In my bed. What the—
"Oh hey! You're awake!" Nana said, walking in with James right behind.
"Hi..." I replied, a bit confused.
"How are you feeling?" James asked.
"I guess I'm okay," I said groggily.
Nana came closer. "You collapsed during track. I was gonna cook something, but you said you don't eat much, right?"
I nodded slowly.
"Alrighty, no bacon bomb tonight. Just a light dinner—maybe some chicken salad and soup. Sound good?"
Way better than a chalky protein shake. "Yeah. That's fine."
Nana nodded and left. Now it was just me and James. Again.
"Feeling better?" he asked softly.
"Stop being weird, James."
"I was just asking"
We sat there in silence until I couldn't hold back the question. "So... how did I get here? Did someone drag me or what?"
"Nope," he said. "Someone carried you."
I blinked. "Who?"
"Minho."
...What? My mind blanked for a moment. "Wait—what? Minho?" I echoed, blinking at James like he just told me aliens were real.
"Yup. That guy's got surprising strength, not gonna lie," James said casually, leaning back in the chair by my desk.
"But he was literally on the field, slapping Twan's ass like it was a drum solo. When did that happen?"
James shrugged. "He looked back and saw you faint. Didn't even wait for a teacher. Just carried you all the way here. Like, bridal style and all. He knows Nana can take care of you better"
I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Minho? That cocky, guitar-playing, trash-talking Minho? The same guy who stole my apple?
Oh...