*Charlie's P.O.V*

"C'mon!" Mia walks backwards. I freeze.

"Let's go!" I hear her whisper-yell again, disturbing others nearby. I don't want to be the cause of their plight; I relent.

As we reach the school arena, she surprises me by finding a deserted sitting area for us both. I reposition my earmuffs and numb the sudden chants reverberating in support of the team with what are now the highest points.

"Are we winning?" I ask.

She opens her mouth and points to the arena's centre. I frown, wondering how the polished wooden court's surface or the guys dirtying it answer my question.

"Dude, no!" She gasps.

Trailing her line of sight, I notice players in red scowling. I look at my red tie; we are losing.

I don't fault our players, though. The Anderson team seem tough, especially with their muscles poking out of their blue jerseys like this. My gaze darts to their coach and a few players jubilating. They are dialling their excitement down when I meet his grin.

He winks, and I squint, pretending to struggle to recognise him.

"That's their star player."

"Pardon me? Wait, let me take this off-"

"- I am saying the guy you're looking at is their star player."

Star player!

The noun phrase strikes me. My jaw drops.

A locker room conversation starts playing in my mind. After physical education - when my classmates were discussing who would win this game, - I overheard:

"Do you think they'll go easy on us after what happened last time?"

"Ya, what that Harry-kid did was pretty messed up. It's all fun and games till they have to rush their star player to the hospital because you poured pineapple juice on him.

"But what if he didn't know the player was allergic?"

"Oh please, it's on his insta bio. "

"The culprit was high, I heard."

An eruption of applause snaps me back to the present. That conversation was already a punch to my gut, but now I feel like crying. I shouldn't have allowed Mia to lure me to this spot where we can see each other clearly. I should have held my ground and stayed in the library.

"I should go."

"No! He's on the court," Mia flaps her hands at me. " Look!"

I really shouldn't, but I give myself five seconds.

One.

He is running on the court ...

Two.

He is receiving a pass ...

Three.

Dribbling ...

Four.

Shoots ...

"Oh, NO!" Mia screeches. I open my mouth too, though I am not sad about that.

I'm sad that he looks at me. When the crowd of Anderson students come alive, his teammates hurl him over their shoulders, and the intercom starts yelling about a spectacular play and a crucial game-winning shot; he sees me.

The game ends. The arena pulsates with energy. I quickly bid Mia goodbye and disappear through the back doors.

"Where are you going?!"

I halt in my tracks.

He grins. " Did you watch the game?"

"Yes, Leo. You saw me."

"Oh, that was you?" He smirks. "I didn't peg you for a sports fan."

I fold my arms. You told me to watch the game.

He is about to say more when a sudden pat grabs his attention. His teammate, too ecstatic to notice me, begins dragging him.

"Wait here!" I hear him say on his way back into the arena.

He returns with his school's basketball jacket. Before I know it, he wraps it over my shoulders and breezes, "Let's go."

"Where?-" Sudden contact cuts me off, and he starts running so soon that I fear my arm will tear. Ignoring any and every eye, we come to a halt in front of his school bus when he plops a cap on my head.

I flinch.

"Don't worry. They're clean," he heaves, climbing in. My head shakes, only for him to grab my hand again.

This is not what I signed up for when he phoned me to propose hanging out after the game. "Are you trying to get me into trouble?!" I finally find the agency to whisper-yell.

Cackling, he exercises the audacity to send me to the backseat. I'm lucky that the spacious, cinnamon-scented bus is empty. I don't think my disguise is adequate, but he assures me it's okay.

"If Coach says, 'Borris!' just raise your hand and keep your head down," he instructs, mimicking his coach.

"No."

"Huh?" Leo groans. "Ok, just keep your head down.""

"Like this?" I bow my head against the seat in front of me. Three minutes later, my head is still down. I look dead, minus the fluffy pink 'headphones' as Leo calls them to his mates trooping in.

"Who's that, though?" An overly based voice nears me.

"Borris."

"Na," another voice contradicts Leo, softer.

Then, I hear stomping and cheers, only for a mature voice to quiet them by bellowing, " Ok, boys, give yourselves rounds of applause!"

"Incredible balls?!"

"What?!"

"Rooney, are you deaf?!" Leo laughs with the other guy, hitting my ribs a little. I am tempted to lift my head and see them, but their coach starts mentioning names.

Borris is called, and I behold Leo's hand of quadruple rings travel before my eyes. I don't like him lying to his coach.
However, when I finally lift my head and tell him so, he quirks, "Charlie, meet Rooney and Marvin."

A well-tanned guy I have seen in the skatepark before reacts first, wiggling his bushy brows. "Sup."

"Hi, " Marvin booms.

I wave at them as Leo adds," And Nat," pinpointing the boy in the front seat, disturbing their sleepy coach.

These are too many introductions in one day. I smile nervously until his two friends turn back, resuming their chinwag.

"Your friends are nice."

"My friends?" The star player deadpans, "You'll have to impale me out before you can call them that."

"We can hear you."

I am jolted once again by Marvin's voice.
Leo chuckles, "Just kidding," and twists his body towards me.

"So, how did you find my performance?"

"Great," I hesitate. "Although I thought I'd find you taking pictures instead."

"I do, for other school events," he says, taking out his phone. "But, you have to tell me which of my shots you liked."

"I saw just one."

"Why?"

"I... I was f-feeling bad." About something my friend did.

"But you were happy watching me win?"

"Yes..." My tone isn't convincing. It only makes him figure it out.

"Harry?"

I nod. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Leo relaxes in his seat, throwing a hand over mine. "You didn't do anything wrong. He did."

"But I misjudged and asked you to apologise first!"

"Charlie! It's fine." He laughs and then puts on an earpiece, giving me the other. "Just forget about it."

How? I wonder as an alien song fills my left ear. Leo shuts his eyes and hums to it. I flinch at the profanity playing and remove it.

Rooney turns. "Yo, what are y'all listening to?"

I shrug and give him the earpiece. His stomach shifts above his seat so he can hear without disturbing Leo; at least, that's what I think until he yanks off the entire plug. The song erupts, startling Leo.

"Roon!" He glares, but his friend is too focused on rapping along: "Don't go against me, then ask for my help ..."

Guys seated elsewhere join him, and the chorus crescendoes as more masculine voices get involved. His teammates start chanting the song while drumming and dancing excitedly until it gets to a part where the Nat guy stands up to holler, "Yo Leee! It's getting to your favourite part!"

Leo rolls his eyes. Marvin gets up to smack his head, but he dodges, saying, "Na, you can't pressure me into this riot. Coach is here!"

Perhaps by joining his teammates, he'll hinder them from waking their coach. With this in mind, I nod encouragingly as he asks me for my opinion.

"Ok, fine." He concedes, bobbing. The bus quiets down before he raps in perfect eloquence, "If the money wasn't straight, she wouldn't be here today. Ain't it man sure know what to say..."

Hollers erupt. Heads turn.

I don't need to turn mine because Leo spares me a smug glance. His hands to do little dance movements that excite his teammates, despite his straight face that will annoy me later. His gentle eyes crinkle so slightly that I almost miss his happiness.

It doesn't matter how many more talents I discover in him, though; I'm already in awe. I might as well join the chant of his honour.

*

When the bus purrs into Anderson High School, I first notice how similar their school is to Spencer High. It doesn't seem intentional, but I must admit that the only differences are that the school building is painted sky blue, and the parking lot is more oversized.

"Time to show you what you've been missing," Rooney quirks as everyone gets off. Leo nods to Nat, and they huddle around our seats, gathering each other's stuff. I offer a hand to Leo, and in no time, we vacate the bus. The other players are jubilating as their coach says something. Leo insists that I follow their lead, although I can't help halting at points where the similarities feel overwhelming.

What's so different?

"Did you just ask that?!"

My eyes widen. Rooney stares at me, both expectant and offended.

"Your locker rooms are not this spacious." Marvin whirls around the bench we are sitting on.

I can't disagree. There is a lot of space for easy movement despite their bags on the ground. As they rummage for stuff to pack in their lockers, Rooney boasts about their school.

"... And we have medals for everything, be it sports, academia or whatever..." He doesn't stop when his mates finish packing and changing. He goes on and on until we are bypassing award cases.

"Ok, now, for the selling point." He halts to look up. "Hear that?"

"What?" Leo stands akimbo.

This is when I remove my earmuffs. Something is rattling. Marvin facepalms and says, "Girls."

As if on cue, we see a stampede from the distance. Shouting girls appear in the front lineup; their velocity shows they can trample me.

Nope, this is not how I'll die! I flee.

I hear their quick steps behind me before Nat yells, "To the car!" Obeying, we beeline for a white Corolla parked outside, a reasonable distance from the bus. As Leo shuts the car door after I enter, we watch the crowd of ecstatic girls merge with the players, creating a rowdy spectacle. Nat pulls out his phone and starts recording, laughing.

"Look at them - Oh," he interrupts himself to check something on the phone.

"What?" Marvin, in the passenger's seat, leans over to peer at his screen and then cackles, "Oh, Taylor Swift."

"Don't use that tone to talk about my queen," Nat snarls, and just as quickly as he takes offence, he also reverts to squeal, " I just got a notification about her upcoming concert. It's going to be epic!"

"You're talking as if you're going," Leo says.

"Oh, I will! With you guys."

"Nathaniel, are you hearing yourself?" Marvin jovially sweeps a muscled hand across his face and holds his giddy friend's shoulders.

"We-e sho-ould go-o," Nat still bleats as Marvin shakes him.

"Lemme see." Leo pries as well, only to huff back into the space beside me. "The trip will take more than a day."

"And the tickets are too expensive," Marvin adds, "and gas prices are skyrocketing. Our allowances combined can get us as far as where?"

With every reason, Nat sinks further into his seat. He sours eventually. "Ok, then maybe I should sell my leg -"

"- Yo, the fuck!" Rooney spits out, but Nat rolls his trouser leg to try removing his prosthetic leg while Marvin grapples for his hands.

I flinch at the profane word, and Leo chuckles," Forgive his language."

Nat gives up, cupping his phone to his heart, Marvin rolls his eyes, and I mutter a sympathetic sorry, after which Leo sighs.

"Fine. We'll go."

Again, heads snap towards him.

"How?"

"Ur ... well, Roon ..." He hesitates before uttering," There's, ur, this photography competition I might do. Maybe I can borrow my dad's credit card and then pay him later with the prize money."

"You would do that?!" Nat pokes his head out to gasp.

Leo laughs. "Ya, I mean, if I can-" He shakes his head. " If I can get a unique location and a model and takes the photos before Easter ending, maybe."

"Well ... you have your uncle's lakehouse," Marvin muses.

"And you have your model?" Rooney chimes in.

I squirm as four pairs of eyes instantly fall on me. Roon chants affirmatives. Leo grimaces like he knows I will say no.

Slowly, I nod.

"YES! IN YOUR FACE MARV!"

"Roon, help me restrain him."

"Hell nuh. Ask Leo."

Chuckling at them, Leo turns to me and grins. "See, my services are expensive."