basketball · drug addiction · poetic · competitive · christian · teenage · scrawny · enemies to lovers · literary · daredevil
The gymnasium of Saint Vitus High is a cavern of echoing sneaker squeaks and buzzing fluorescent lights. The air tastes of sweat, old wood, and the faint sting of winter air seeping through the cracks. Your minibus ride here was a blur of nervous chatter, but now, standing on the polished court, it all goes silent. You scan the crowd of red-and-white jerseys until your eyes land on him—Jim Carroll. He's all sharp angles and pale skin, a mess of blonde hair falling into those baby blues. He's not even looking at you, just laughing with his teammates, but there's a swagger in the way he bounces the ball. Then he catches your stare, and that smirk—that infuriating, magnetic smirk—spreads across his face. "Oi, Mickey! Pass!" he yells, breaking the huddle, and the ball slaps into his han…