The gym was packed. The stands were buzzing with excitement, filled with students, parents, and way too many phone cameras. It was game day, and the energy in the air was electric. Max walked in with his team, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. The moment the crowd saw them, people started cheering, clapping, and calling out their names.
Max’s teammates waved. A group of girls rushed over, phones out, already begging for pictures.
“Max! Over here!” one of them called, holding her phone up high.
Max gave her his signature grin, throwing an arm around her for a quick photo. Then came another. And another. He barely had time to think before someone else grabbed his arm, pulling him into another shot. His teammates laughed, shoving each other as more girls swarmed them.
“Man, you’re like a celebrity,” Tyler joked, elbowing Max as he posed with yet another group.
“What can I say? People love me,” Max shot back, smirking as he stepped out of the crowd and finally grabbed his water bottle from the bench.
But the noise in the gym suddenly shifted, and Max looked up to see the other team walking in. Their entrance wasn’t as loud, but there was an edge to it serious and focused. Max felt his jaw tighten when he spotted someone at the back of the group.
“Watch your back, LOVERBOY,” his old best friend, Ryan, smirked as he passed.
Max felt his chest tighten. He and Ryan used to be inseparable until Max had well, let’s just say "accidentally" stolen Ryan’s girlfriend a year ago. It wasn’t intentional, but Ryan had never let it go.
“You too, Liam,” Max shot back, not missing a beat. The name slipped out easily. It was Ryan’s middle name, and Ryan hated it. Max brushed past him, ignoring the heat growing in his chest as he walked straight to the bleachers to grab his water.
Max tilted the bottle up, letting the cold water pour down his throat. He could feel the tension from the exchange, but he shrugged it off. He was used to Ryan’s jabs by now. What he wasn’t used to was the weird feeling he got when he caught someone staring at him.
He lowered the bottle and glanced to the side. His eyes landed on Jaxon, sitting in his usual spot on the bleachers with his sketchbook resting on his lap. Jaxon wasn’t drawing, though. He was just... watching.
Max froze for half a second, caught off guard. Jaxon’s gaze wasn’t angry or mocking. It wasn’t anything, really just calm, unreadable. But it still sent a weird jolt through Max’s chest, the kind that made him want to... say something.
Before Max could move, Coach’s voice boomed through the gym, sharp and demanding. “Max! Let’s go, you’re on defense tonight!”
Max straightened up, shaking off whatever weird feeling had just crept in. “Got it, Coach,” he called back, slinging his water bottle onto the bench.
He glanced at Jaxon one last time, but Jaxon had already gone back to his sketchbook, head down like nothing had happened. Max gritted his teeth and jogged over to join his teammates.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
