ARWAN
On the court, the basketball match is in full swing.
As I dribble the ball with determination, my eyes scan the court for the perfect opportunity. We're already in the lead, but I want to spread our score further to ensure a decisive victory. As a point guard, it's my responsibility to orchestrate a well-executed attack and reward the efforts of my teammates. I feel the pressure on my shoulders, as I do in every match, and I don't intend to let anyone down tonight.
All around us, the crowd roars with excitement as the final minutes tick away. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, fuelling my motivation to win. I call the game, directing my teammates to their positions, and they respond with almost blind confidence in my leadership.
With a dash of speed, I cut through the defence, evading our opponents with finesse. My mind works fast, analysing every angle, every potential pass or shot. At some point, I spot a momentary opening and a teammate positioned near the end line, ready for a quick clearance.
In one fluid movement, I send a proper pass, leading him towards the basket. The ball finds its mark, and the net vibrates with the sweet sound of success. The crowd erupts in cheers as the scoreboard reflects two more points in our favour. We've really come into our own tonight; I think each and every one of us was really looking forward to finally getting back into the season.
However, I'm not content with that. I know we can do more and that we have the chance to surpass our scores from previous years. So I regroup the team, encouraging them to maintain their concentration and intensity. Especially Tyler, who seems to have been elsewhere for the last few days. We all share the collective understanding that we can dominate the match right up to the last second.
And that's precisely what we intend to do.
Once again, I take control of the ball and dribble while examining the pitch. I scour it, looking for the weak points in the opposition's defence that I was already able to analyse throughout the match. Once again, I see an opening, this time at the top of the paint, which prompts me to attack.
The defenders are already scrambling to react, but I manoeuvre ahead of them, leaving a trail of confusion in my wake. As I reach the racket, I leap into the air, my eyes fixed on Ivan, who is positioned close to the rim. I throw a perfectly timed alley-oop pass, and my teammate finishes with a thunderous dunk.
Our team erupts in joy, and we quickly congratulate each other before returning to the game. The match is far from over, but at this point, it's only a matter of time. For the rest of the match, I keep a close eye on my role while trying to ignore a very specific shout from the crowd. I noticed it as soon as the game started but only recently had time to look to confirm it: Emery is in the stands cheering me on. Not my team, no. Not Tyler. Me.
I glance at her every chance I get, trying to decipher her attention. She's been acting like this for two days now—like we're close. And it confuses me because I can't understand what's happening to her. I've had such a hard time deciphering her since that night at the cinema. What if she took some of my actions as flirting? God, I hope not! Having her around is the last thing I want.
Despite the distractions, I stay focused on the match until the final buzzer sounds around us with a final score in which we largely dominate our opponents. I check out my teammates and congratulate them while doing the same with our opponents, running a hand over my forehead to wipe the sweat off. Jared soon joins me and congratulates me on my game, and I promise him that next time, he'll be on the pitch too.
No sooner do I finish my sentence than someone unexpectedly jumps into my arms? Caught off guard, I freeze, struggling to understand what's happening. On principle, I return the embrace, only to be met by familiar brown hair. The orange scent is another hint of who it is. How on earth did Emery manage to sneak onto the pitch? And why did she even do it? But nothing compares to the shock of her embrace. What the actual fuck?
After a few seconds, she looks up, her gaze meeting mine. "You played really well tonight," she whispers, her words ringing in my ear. "And you were really, really sexy."
My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What the fu—"
Before I can finish my sentence, my gaze catches Zoya's. She has just approached us, and I instinctively move away from Emery to face her. Zoya tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding direct eye contact. She stands right in front of me, meeting my eyes briefly before shifting her attention to the right, where Emery is standing. She offers her a polite smile, and Emery returns it before walking away.
Thank goodness for that.
"You seemed completely in control back there," my friend remarks, her voice hinting at admiration. "That was really impressive."
I run a hand through my hair, feeling a nervous laugh escape my lips. "Yeah, we wanted to start the season strong. I'm really glad you came.
"Of course. I made you a promise, didn't I?
Yeah, she promised, but with the distance I've created between us lately, I'd convinced myself she wouldn't show up, thinking I wasn't worth it. I'm relieved she has. That's what I want to tell her. I want her to know how much she means to me, how important our friendship is and that I wish I could leave things like this between us, but the words get stuck. My heart races every time she's close—like now.
"Zoya, I—"
"I should go," she interrupts, cutting off my attempt to express myself. "I just wanted to come and cheer you a bit. But… Yeah. I have to go. Have a good night."
She takes one last look to my right—at Emery, I imagine—before walking away for good. Feeling my shoulders droop, I slowly lose the fleeting joy she instilled in me by speaking to me. I feel so pathetic every time she talks to me lately. Mostly, I feel selfish because she probably doesn't understand why I'm so distant from her, but how can I admit to her that I just can't stop thinking about her, no matter what time of day it is?
I let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the exhilaration of my victory fade. But before I can regain my composure, Emery grabs my arm and pulls me firmly in with her. I try to protest and free myself, but her grip is surprisingly strong, forcing me to follow her lead. We make our way through the crowd until she finally guides us to a secluded spot where we won't be disturbed. Confusion fills my mind as I bombard her with questions, but she remains silent, dragging me along until she deems the place appropriate.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I burst out, unable to contain my frustration any longer. "Why did you bring me here? And why are you acting like we're—"
"I have a plan," she cuts me off.
I frown, wiping the sweat from my brow and crossing my arms in frustration. "A plan? What for? Pissing me off?"
She lets out a forced laugh. "No, it's about your teammate."
I raise an eyebrow. "My teammate? Do you realise how many teammates I—"
"Tyler," she explains. "I'm talking about Tyler."
I already knew that, but I love watching her lose her patience.
"How is that my problem?"
"Well, you're a guy. His captain, to be exact. I figured there must be some competition between you, right?"
I don't understand what she's getting at. I don't see it as competition—at least not from my side. We're a team, and the only person we have to prove anything to is our coach. Tyler is a talented player, and he knows it. There's never been any doubt about that, just as there's never been any doubt that I can play.
We may not be very close, but we get on well. In fact, I have a good relationship with every team member. We're not exactly a family—that's too corny a term—but spending so much time together naturally creates a bond.
"What's your point?" I sigh, feeling a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
She rolls her eyes as if the answer should be obvious.
"Can't you see it? You, the team captain, are an exceptional player both on and off the pitch and attractive enough to attract the attention of many girls. Don't you see the connection?"
I start to worry about her health with all the compliments she's throwing at me.
"Tyler," she points out, "I can make him jealous. With you."
I stop abruptly, unable to believe what I've just heard. Did Emery really make this offer? It can't be possible. I've always known she had a wild side, but to go this far? Is she really that crazy? How could she come up with such an absurd idea? Is it some twisted plot she concocted when we went to the cinema? I can't help questioning everything now. Did she intend all along to manipulate me into taking her home?
Shit, how could I have been so blind?
"Wow…," I mumble, trying to process her words.
"Yes, I know. It's a stroke of genius, isn't it?" she replies. "Now, I think we should start planning. You know, so we're ready to pretend when he's there. Personally, I thought that—"
"Is this some kind of sick joke?" I interject, unable to hide my disbelief.
She looks up at me, deadly serious. "Do I look like I'm joking here? Anyway, like I said, we better—"
"Never in my life will I let you drag me into your twisted plans," I interrupt firmly.
She frowns, clearly taken aback. "My twisted plans? Come on, Arwan, be serious. It's super smart! This is the perfect plan to make him stop ignoring me!"
A bitter laugh escapes me. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe he's ignoring you because he was just bored?"
She frowns, looking a little hurt by my remark. It unsettles me for a moment, but I stand my ground. I don't apologise for my words, and I don't take them back. She has to understand that not everything can be handed to her on a silver platter. Yes, I'm partly to blame for Tyler distancing himself, but she shouldn't have pushed me so hard. And she certainly shouldn't have taken an interest in one of my teammates. Let alone trying to befriend my sister.
In fact, she shouldn't have been part of my life at all.
"I'm not asking you to give me your kidney," she complains. "Just play along a little."
I squint my eyes, intrigued by what she has in mind. Part of me is curious to hear what nonsense she's concocted this time.
"Mhm. Mhm. Meaning?" I reply sceptically.
"Well, it'd be nice if you'd stop making faces at me every time I look at you. It's all part of the plan," she explains.
I raise an eyebrow. "You mean you don't really have a problem with your eyes? Because all your winking made me wonder."
She lets out a small laugh despite herself. "Okay, I admit there are a few issues to work out, but all I ask is that you at least try to pretend not to hate me."
"Yeah, that sounds like hard work."
She rolls her eyes, continuing all the same, "So when I whisper something in your ear, don't flip out. The same goes if I touch you. Deal?"
"I never said I agreed to anything," I remind her.
"That's right," she nods." I'll wait until you come to me, and then we can work it out together, okay?" she suggests before giving me a kiss in the air and walking away.
I can't help but let out a laugh. Is she serious? Does she really think I'd agree to something like that? Sure, it might help me with Zoya, but I'd never stoop that low. Emery is delusional if she thinks I would accept her proposal. She's clung to me since she met my little sister. Accepting her offer would be like signing a contract for my own downfall. There's no way I'm going down that road. Emery can continue to kid herself and find someone else to fill that role.
But it certainly won't be me.