The gym echoed with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the rhythmic thud of a basketball bouncing. Max dribbled lazily, his mind half on the game and half on... other things. His friends shouted back and forth, shaking each other as they played a rough three-on-three match.
“Max! Over here!” Tyler yelled, waving his arms from the corner of the court.
Max barely registered the call. Instead, he glanced at the far end of the gym, where Jaxon was sitting on the bleachers, sketchbook balanced on his knees. Max dropped the ball. It wasn’t unusual to see Jaxon hanging around after school he’d often sit there drawing while waiting for the late bus. But today, it felt different. Max was hyper-aware of him, and it was starting to piss him off. Tyler picked up the ball.
“Dude, pay attention!” Tyler yapped, snapping Max out of his daze. The ball hit Max square in the chest, and he fumbled it, earning a chorus of laughs from his teammates.
“Man, what’s up with you?” Tyler said, jogging over as Max recovered the ball. “You’ve been out of it all week.”
“I’m fine,” Max mumbled, tossing the ball back.
“Yeah, sure you are.” Tyler gave him a look but didn’t press further. “You better get your head in the game before Saturday, though. Coach’ll bench you if you pull this crap.”
Max rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. He knew Tyler was right, but his head just wasn’t in it. He glanced toward the bleachers again, catching a peek of Jaxon’s dark hair as he leaned over his sketchbook.
Why couldn’t he just ignore him? It wasn’t like Jaxon was doing anything. Just sitting there, minding his own business, as usual. But every time Max saw him, there was this weird knot in his stomach. It wasn’t guilt exactly. It was... something else.
“Yo, let’s run it back!” someone shouted, pulling Max back into the game. He forced himself to focus, chasing the ball and throwing a half-hearted pass to Tyler. But even as he sprinted up and down the court, his eyes kept drifting to the bleachers.
Later: A Not-So-Accidental Encounter
The game wrapped up about half an hour later. Max grabbed his water bottle from the sidelines, wiping the sweat from his face as he glanced toward the bleachers again. Jaxon was still there, head down, completely absorbed in whatever he was drawing.
Max hesitated for a moment before slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking over. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal just a casual thing. Maybe he’d make a joke or ask what Jaxon was drawing. Nothing weird about that, right?
“Hey.”
Jaxon looked up, his expression immediately defended. “What?”
Max shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly regretting this. “You, uh... come here every day?”
Jaxon raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, Max?”
“Nothing,” Max said quickly. “I was just... I don’t know. You’re always sitting here. I figured I’d... check-in or something.”
Jaxon let out a parched laugh, closing his sketchbook. “Check in? Since when do you care about what I do?”
“I don’t,” Max said, a little too fast. He winced, realizing how stupid that sounded. “I mean... I do. I guess. Look, I just wanted to say—”
“Don’t.” Jaxon stood up, tucking his sketchbook in his bag. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it. I don’t need your fake apologies or whatever this is supposed to be.”
“It’s not fake,” Max blurted. “I just... I feel bad, okay? About all the crap I said before. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Jaxon stared at him for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out if Max was serious. “Why now?” he asked finally. “Why are you suddenly sorry?”
Max opened his mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t know how to explain it. He didn’t even fully understand it himself. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just... I want to make it right.”
Jaxon shook his head, a small, painful smile on his lips. “You can’t just make it right, Max. It doesn’t work like that.”
With that, he turned and walked toward the doors, leaving Max standing there, feeling like he’d just been benched in the biggest game of his life.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAcnNkJAjDy
