WHEN WE CROSSED PATHS

CHAPTER FIVE: BETWEEN GLANCES

*Jaden's pov*

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I sat at the cafeteria table, picking at my sandwich, trying not to think too hard about my looming studies.

Across from me, “Red” was absorbed in her meal, a subtle flush painting her cheeks.

I knew exactly the effect I was having on her—that slight tension in the air—like electricity waiting to spark.

Allie, beside us, leaned toward her brother Ethan, animated as usual.

Ethan was one of my closest friends—a fellow basketball player, always up for a bit of fun.

“I swear, it’s like this semester is impossible,” Allie groaned, shaking her head. “The basketball practices, the tests—it’s all hitting at once.”

Ethan grinned, reaching across the table to snatch a fry from Allie’s plate.

“Hey, I need some fuel too,” he teased, earning a playful swat from his sister.

I sighed, rolling my eyes at the sibling bickering. It was a constant, a ritual, and I was used to it by now.

But as my eyes drifted back to Red—

Red.

I liked the name.

Simple.

Memorable.

I didn't know why I'd started calling her that in my head.

Maybe because her hair was impossible to ignore.

Maybe because I didn't know her name yet.

Or maybe because thinking of her as Red somehow felt easier than admitting how often I had been noticing her lately.

I couldn't help but notice how her soft smile curled at the corners of her lips, amused by her friends' antics. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. She wasn't forcing herself into the conversation.

She was simply being herself.

And somehow that made her stand out even more.

Allie caught my gaze and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, Chelsea, I forgot to introduce you. This is my brother Ethan, and this is I, his best friend and teammate."

She smiled, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm Chelsea Bennett. I transferred here from Rockwood High."

Chelsea.

So that was Red's real name.

For some reason, hearing it felt important.

Chelsea.

The name fit her.

Ethan whistled dramatically.

"Wow, you're a real beauty. Is that hair natural? Or did you dye it?"

Red laughed softly, a little shy.

"It's natural, actually."

Ethan looked impressed.

"Seriously?"

She nodded.

I found myself smiling slightly.

The conversation continued naturally.

Ethan leaned forward.

"So what was your old school like? Did you like it there?"

Chelsea kept her answers light.

"Yeah, it was nice. I had a good group of friends."

"Must've been hard leaving."

Something flickered across her face.

Only briefly.

But I noticed.

"Yeah," she admitted quietly. "It was."

For a moment, I wondered what moving here had been like for her.

New town.

New college.

New people.

I couldn't imagine starting over like that.

But I wasn't really hearing every word after that.

My mind was elsewhere.

Lingering on the way her smile warmed her face.

The way her red hair caught the light.

The way she tucked a loose strand behind her ear when she got nervous.

Small things.

Ridiculous things.

Things I shouldn't have been paying attention to.

Yet somehow I was.

I looked away.

Then looked back.

And immediately regretted it.

Because Red happened to glance up at the same moment.

Our eyes met.

Just for a second.

A brief moment.

Nothing more.

Yet somehow it felt longer.

Red looked away first.

I immediately focused on my sandwich.

Get a grip.

I barely knew her.

Allie shifted the conversation, asking I and Ethan about our upcoming game—part of the Ravers team's next big match, set for four weeks from now.

That topic, at least, was familiar territory.

"We're ready," Ethan said confidently.

"We better be," I replied.

"You sound worried."

"I'm realistic."

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't."

The conversation quickly turned into an argument.

A friendly one.

The kind teammates had all the time.

Red watched with quiet amusement.

I noticed.

Again.

Willy, Charlie and Charlie's girlfriend ‘Linda’ walked over.

There were our Classmates and teammates except Linda who was Charlie's girlfriend.

“Here comes the class clown” Ethan joked referring to Willy

“Hi losers” Willy said jokingly.

“Hi” Charlie greeted and sat down beside me with his arm across Linda's shoulder

Then, just as the conversation began to settle, Allie groaned dramatically and dropped her forehead onto the table.

"I seriously think one of my professors hates me."

Ethan snorted.

"That's because you say that about every professor."

"Because they all hate me."

"They don't hate you."

"They absolutely do."

Willy pointed a fry at her.

"Maybe they're just expecting you to actually do the reading."

Allie sat upright immediately.

"The reading is optional."

"It literally isn't."

"According to who?"

"The syllabus."

"The syllabus is a suggestion."

The entire table burst into laughter.

Even Red laughed.

The sound immediately pulled my attention back toward her.

Again.

I was beginning to notice a pattern.

Every time she laughed, I looked.

Every time she smiled, I looked.

Every time she spoke, I found myself listening.

It was becoming a problem.

A very annoying problem.

Because I already had enough things occupying my mind.

My literature grade was hanging by a thread.

The upcoming game was only four weeks away.

Practice sessions were getting longer.

The pressure from coaches was getting heavier.

And my father certainly wasn't making things easier.

The memory of our argument resurfaced unexpectedly.

"You can't rely on basketball forever, I."

"I'm not."

"Then start acting like it."

"I am acting like it."

"Failing literature doesn't look like acting like it."

I clenched my jaw.

I hated when my father was right.

That was the worst part.

Because he was right.

Literature was becoming a disaster.

Every assignment felt like a battle.

Every essay took twice as long as it should.

And no matter how much effort I put in, my grades refused to improve.

Mrs. Walker's warning from earlier still echoed in my head.

Find a solution soon.

Simple words.

Heavy consequences.

If things didn't change, recruiters would notice.

Scholarships could disappear.

Opportunities could vanish.

The future I'd spent years building suddenly felt fragile.

I pushed the thought away.

Just for now.

Lunch wasn't the time to think about that.

Across the table, Red was listening as Ethan told another ridiculous story.

Something about Willy accidentally wearing two different shoes to class.

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"It was dark."

"It was nine in the morning."

"Exactly. Basically nighttime."

Linda laughed so hard she nearly dropped her drink.

Chelsea covered her mouth to hide a smile.

I found myself smiling too.

The group felt different today.

Lighter.

Easier.

Usually lunch was dominated by conversations about games, workouts, and classes.

Today there was something else.

A new energy.

And whether I wanted to admit it or not, most of it seemed to revolve around her.

Not because she was loud.

Not because she demanded attention.

Actually, it was the opposite.

She seemed comfortable sitting back and observing.

Listening more than talking.

Yet somehow everyone kept including her naturally.

As if she'd been part of the group longer than a few days.

As if she belonged.

And somehow, I found myself glad she was there.

I couldn't explain why.

I just was.

Then Chelsea glanced up.

Our eyes met again.

For a brief second.

Just enough.

Then she looked away.

And I found myself staring down at my tray like it contained the answers to all of life's problems.

Unfortunately, Willy noticed.

Because of course he did.

A slow grin spread across his face.

A dangerous grin.

The kind that usually meant trouble.

I narrowed my eyes immediately.

Don't.

Willy's grin widened.

Definitely trouble.

Before either of us could say anything, movement from across the cafeteria caught my attention.

Someone was approaching our table.

Someone wearing designer clothes.

Someone carrying enough confidence to fill the entire room.

My appetite disappeared instantly.

My shoulders stiffened.

And I sighed internally.

Madison Blake.

Great.

Just what I needed.

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