The next morning, I walked into the school hallways with a mix of nerves and determination. Today, I had a mission: survive my first day covering the basketball team for the school paper without embarrassing myself.
Piece of cake, right?
Wrong.
By the time I reached the gym, I could already hear the squeak of sneakers and the sharp whistles of practice. My notebook clutched tightly to my chest, I stepped inside… and froze.
Aiden Cruz. Of course. He was there, commanding the court like he owned it, dribbling past teammates with the kind of ease that made my stomach flip. And yes, he noticed me.
"Back again?" he asked, tossing a basketball effortlessly to a teammate. His eyes met mine for just a second, then he turned back to practice.
I swallowed. "Uh… yeah. For the school paper."
He raised an eyebrow. "Bold. Most people run away after the first spill."
I gave him a small, sheepish smile. "I like challenges."
Aiden smirked. "We'll see if you survive this one."
I followed him to the bleachers and found a spot to sit, trying not to fidget. I had a perfect view of the court, and already my pen itched to write about the teamwork, the drills, the energy. But I couldn't stop sneaking glances at Aiden.
Halfway through practice, he paused and called the team over. "Alright, five-minute break. Hydrate, then back to drills."
I took a deep breath and decided to take a risk. "Coach Ramirez," I said, pointing toward the side, "would it be okay if I asked some questions?"
The coach, a tall man with a whistle always around his neck, glanced at me. "Sure, as long as you don't distract the players too much."
Perfect.
I scribbled notes as I asked quick questions about teamwork, training schedules, and upcoming games. But it was impossible not to notice the way Aiden watched me. Sometimes his attention seemed focused on the court, other times, fleetingly, on me—almost like he was trying not to let me see.
And then… disaster struck again.
I reached for my pen and accidentally knocked my notebook off the bleacher. It slid across the floor, stopping at Aiden's feet.
He picked it up silently, handed it back, and said, "Maybe you need a clipboard next time."
I laughed nervously, cheeks burning. "Noted… again."
There was a beat of silence, the kind where you know something unspoken is hovering. He tilted his head slightly, almost curious. And just like that, I felt it—the spark.
I had only been here a day, but somehow, Aiden Cruz had already turned my "new school nerves" into something far more complicated.
And judging by the smirk he gave me before heading back to the court… I wasn't the only one thinking about it.