More Than Friends

Four

Helena took one last glance at the sleeping Samantha before quietly exiting the room. The conversation from the night before had left her more conflicted, her mind a whirlwind of unsettling questions.

She walked hurriedly, a stack of books clutched to her chest, her sky blue dress swayed from side to side, her hair packed in a tight bun.

Her thoughts swirling frantically. Every word that drunken Samantha had slurred out last night about Jason was still replaying in her head.

Lost in thought, she almost missed the familiar sounds drifting from the large campus basketball court.

The sharp slap of a ball and the sound of footsteps against the concrete floor, the low and intense voices of players and the squealing of girls against one side of the wired fence broke through her haze.

She hesitated for a moment before turning her head, her gaze drawn to the court.

Her eyes widened at the scene in front of her— a handful of shirtless players, bodies glistening with sweat, muscles flexing. Perfectly chiseled abs and shorts hanging below the waistline.

She swallowed, taking it all in.

Her thoughts about Jason, almost forgotten until her gaze settled on the face of the player she was watching— the arrogant curl of his lips, the blonde hair, the pale, icy blue eyes— Jason!

His pale, icy blue eyes were staring into hers— like he had just read her mind.

Like he knew.

He nods at her as the ball was passed to him and mouthed.

“You like what you see, Sherlock?’

He caught the ball without taking his eyes off her, jumped slightly and tossed the ball into the net, scoring a point. The ball fell out from underneath the net, bounced a few times on the concrete before it was caught by another player.

The noise of the squealing crowd against the wired fence was now louder.

Her breath caught in her throat, a fiery blush crept onto her cheeks.

The nod, the arrogance, the words he mouthed, the precision of his shot— all feeling like a direct challenge.

But she dismissed it huffing, her arms clutched tightly around the books as she scurried away.

Was this how often they’d be crossing paths?

A small shiver ran down her spine at the thought of bumping into him again.

Meanwhile Jason watched as she scurried off, his gaze lingering on for a little longer and his smirk widening.

‘Keep running Sherlock, a time would surely come and when it does, there would be no escape, nowhere to run to’

“Another of your bitches?”, someone suddenly asks from behind him.

Recognizing the voice, his face suddenly scrunches up in a frown and he snaps— his tone warning.

“None of your f*cking business Brad”,

“Just a harmless question man”, Brad, a lean, black haired boy, says, raising his arms in the air, a wide grin on his face.

Jason looked at him, only a little restraint held him from punching that stupid grin off Brad’s face.

“You’ve great eyes— Mind your f*cking business Brad”, Jason cuts him off, pale, icy blue eyes staring into his, cold with warning.

“b***h’s got plus for a nice round fat ass— Jason’s hand connected with Brad’s jaw with a sickening thud, cutting him off abruptly, his last restraint shattering completely.

Brad stumbled back, eyes widening with shock, a trickle of blood already forming at the corner of his lips. His hands rose to touch where Jason’s hand had just been.

Gasps sounded from the crowd outside the wired fence but all Jason could hear was the sound of his own blood pounding violently in his ears.

Grabbing Brad he threatens, voice low.

“Next time you don’t mind your goddam business, you’d be earning more than a punch from me, trust me”.

He releases Brad, roughly.

Another black haired boy walks up to them, his gaze full of confusion and curiosity.

“What’s up with you guys?”, he nods at Brad, eyeing Jason’s figure carefully.

Brad wipes the blood off his lips and turns to him, his voice almost shaking.

“Nothing mate, it’s all good”

He walks past him.

Jason walks to the bench, fists still clenched and blood still boiling.

He retrieves his shirt and exits the court, leaving the game and the squeals behind.

But a few squeals and girls followed him stubbornly, blocking his path.

Their outstretched hands holding out bottled water, Jason doesn’t spare them a glance, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

He just shoves past them, ignoring the stares and held out hands.

The crowd around him stumbles back, scattering.

Storming off, he disappears around the corners.