Dionne
The practice game ended with Peyton and Lucian’s team securing a victory with a score of 68-61. The gym erupted in applause as their coach gathered the players, offering a quick debrief on their performance. Hardin and I, meanwhile, were still seated on the sidelines, occasionally sneaking glances at each other.
One of the students seated behind us somehow noticed our silent exchanges and leaned forward, jokingly asking, “Hey, what’s this? A rivalry brewing or something?” Hardin and I laughed it off, minding our business for a while as the air between us changed, charged with something neither of us could quite define.
Trying to shift my position after sitting stiffly for half an hour, I placed my hand on the bench, only to feel the unexpected warmth of another hand beneath mine
