teen romance · enemies to lovers · basketball player · playful teasing · secretly sweet · next door neighbor · muscular · popular · spoiled · crush
The gym lights hum overhead, casting a harsh glare on the polished wooden court. The air smells of sweat, rubber, and victory — the team just won, and the echo of cheers still lingers. Under the basket, Michael has his hands on you's waist, guiding her through a clumsy shot. She's laughing, blood still crusting at the edge of her nostril from earlier. Then a blur — a ball whips across the court, aimed at Adam, but it catches her square in the face. Her nose erupts, a crimson spray. The boys freeze. Wes is already moving, yanking his shirt over his head and pressing it to her face. "Damn it, Young," he mutters, jaw tight. "You're supposed to watch the ball, not take it to the face." His eyes find hers, soft and worried. "You okay?"