SECONDS THOUGHTS
Damon List was many things: a star basketball player, smart, handsome, and kind. Standing at 6'2", his dark blonde hair curled beneath his ears, and his greenish-blue eyes sparkled with that familiar, effortless charm. He was the kind of guy who made everyone around him feel at ease. That is, except for today. Today, everything felt off.
The morning had started like any other, except for the fact that Damon had twisted his ankle the day before during practice. As he rushed to get ready, he winced with each step, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his foot. His thoughts were consumed by one thing: the game. He couldn't let this injury ruin his team's chances. It didn't help that everyone kept asking about his love life. It wasn't like he was hiding anything—it was just, well, complicated.
His girlfriend, Elena, stood as the polar opposite of him: a fiery redhead who was 5'5" of sheer determination. She had dark green eyes and a smile that could melt anyone in her path. Damon loved her with a devotion that matched his passion for basketball, though there was something lately, something unspoken, that gnawed at him. But there was no time for that right now. He had to focus.
"Are you going to tell me how we're getting to school, or do I just drive around aimlessly again?" Elena asked, snapping Damon from his thoughts. She was waiting by the door, arms crossed, clearly already annoyed by his tardiness.
"Yeah, sorry." He shrugged, attempting to mask his frustration. His ankle still hurt, and the idea of sitting in a car for twenty minutes didn't appeal to him. "Just need to grab my stuff and we can go."
As they pulled into the school parking lot, Damon noticed the usual flurry of attention that followed him. His teammates greeted him with slaps on the back, students whispered about the upcoming game, and then—just as predictably—he was bombarded with questions about his relationship with Elena.
"How's Elena, Damon? You two good?" a classmate asked with a mischievous grin.
Damon smiled through gritted teeth. "We're fine," he muttered, brushing off the inquiry.
It was a routine he'd grown used to, but it didn't make it any less annoying. As he walked through the crowded halls, the whispers followed him, some genuine, some nosy. He could already feel the weight of the day pushing down on him.
At lunch, Damon found a moment to sit in peace by the basketball court, his foot throbbing under the table. He absentmindedly watched his teammates shooting hoops, his mind wandering when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Hey, List," Jesse Kyle called from the bleachers. His tone was casual, but the smirk on his face suggested he was always up to something. "What's it like being a jock for a day?"
Damon turned, surprised to see the troublemaker sitting there, arms crossed as if he owned the place. Jesse had made quite the impression in their recent detention together. He was a troublemaker, sure, but there was something strangely captivating about him. Maybe it was the way Jesse had held his own when they were thrown together in that stuffy classroom or the way his eyes had sparkled with a hint of mischief even while serving out a punishment.
"Same as always," Damon replied, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Just trying to survive the chaos."
"Chaos?" Jesse raised an eyebrow. "You call that chaos? Try a bucket of paint on Mr. Thompson's desk."
Damon laughed, though his foot still hurt. The memories of that awkward afternoon in detention flooded his mind—the way they had shared sarcastic quips, exchanged stories of school mischief and laughed more than he'd expected. It wasn't what Damon had anticipated when he ended up in that room with Jesse, but it was... unexpected fun.
"Not sure I can keep up with your level of chaos, Kyle," Damon teased, his competitive edge starting to show.
Jesse tilted his head, watching Damon with a playful glint in his eye. "Oh, I don't know. You might surprise yourself."
It wasn't often Damon let himself get pulled into someone else's whirlwind, but there was something about Jesse's unbothered attitude that made him curious. Damon had always been the responsible one—the guy who had his act together, who knew when to focus and when to play. Jesse, on the other hand, seemed to operate on a different wavelength entirely, one that made Damon question the seriousness with which he treated everything. Could he—Damon List, the golden boy of Camden High—have some fun for once?
"Maybe I'll surprise you," Damon said, standing up and testing his foot. It still hurt, but he wouldn't let that stop him. "You got any ideas?"
Jesse grinned, clearly enjoying the interaction. "How about you come down here and show me how it's done? You've got the moves, right? Or are you just another pretty face?"
Damon felt his competitive nature flare. He wasn't going to let Jesse get the best of him. "You're on, Kyle."
And just like that, without fully understanding why, Damon was stepping into Jesse's world—one where rules were bent, and where his usual responsibilities seemed less important. They might have been unlikely allies, but something about this rivalry, this playful exchange, felt like the beginning of something that could change everything.
As the basketball game resumed, Damon found himself drawn into the chaos that Jesse thrived in. It wasn't basketball practice, but it was something else—something that might just make him question the carefully structured life he'd built for himself. For once, he wasn't thinking about the game, or the pressures, or his injury. He was just... present.
Jesse was right. Maybe he would surprise himself.