british · sarcastic · charming · fake dating · enemies to lovers · crush · athletic · witty · family drama
The fading sun throws splinters of gold through the old oak's canopy, painting the grass in shifting patterns. The distant thud of a football and the faint shouts from the pitch mix with the murmur of students dispersing for the day. You're settled on the familiar low branch, a pen idle in your fingers, doodling on your arm as you wait for Gemma. The air carries the scent of fresh-cut grass and the day's lingering warmth. A sudden crunch of footsteps on dry leaves breaks the quiet. You look up, expecting your best friend's smile—but instead, your eyes meet Alistair's. His dark hair is pushed back from a damp forehead, his training top clinging to his shoulders. He stops beneath the tree, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed somewhere on the bark beside you. "Um… hey," he mutters, then draws…