Unbound Affection

Chapter 8

Viola paced outside the classroom, debating with herself whether she should enter or not. Hearing the voice of her English teacher explaining made her eager to go into the classroom. But her feet halted when she remembered his words: “If you don’t show up, I’ll definitely flip through the pages.”

A loud sigh left her lips. She moved to a corner and leaned on the wall. She stared at the ceiling, giving her brain and heart some time to make a decision. After a long wait, she stood straight, having decided to face the music. Even though skipping class was something she had never done in her life, she had no choice but to try it once, as she needed to get her dairy back.

Her heart pounded at many questions in her head. Knowing her journal was with him, she was worried, as she had drawn and written all she had seen in her nightmares there—the unimaginable creatures and the deaths of some cursed beings. She felt them and could see them.

She took a deep breath, convincing her heart to accept her final decision. Her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.

She then walked to the basketball stadium. The sound of the ball bouncing on the polished floor reverberated in her ears. As she got closer, the louder the noise became.

“You’re here.” Allen noticed her before she even entered. His eyes had been glued to the entrance the whole time he was waiting for her. He threw the ball, which went through the basket perfectly.

She looked around the huge stadium. From the too-high roof, her gaze travelled down to the tall, well-built body. The sleeveless jersey showed off his arms and his fit figure. He jogged towards her and stopped in front of her, his name written above the number thirteen on his jersey.

Number thirteen.

She now believed in the superstition about the number. It was indeed a bad omen.

“I thought you wouldn’t show up.” He rubbed his neck with the back of his palm, sweat rolling down his skin.

He sounded surprised, and she was surprised at her own actions too.

“Where is it?” Viola asked as she looked around to find his bag, ignoring his comment. She planned to get her journal and go back to class for the next subject without wasting any more time with him.

“Did you skip the class?” Allen asked, unable to believe the good girl in front of him had skipped class.

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. Her eyes widened when he lowered himself, matching her height. She scrunched up her nose, the smell of sweat hitting her nostrils. Even though his minty scent overpowered it, she could still smell it. She decided to play brave this time, not wanting to be defeated and played by him again.

“My notebook?” she demanded again, ignoring his unnecessary question.

“Your notebook?” he said dramatically as if she had mentioned new information to him. He stood straight and held his hips. “You want it?”

Her lips parted in dismay as she glared at him. She had just skipped an important class just to meet him, and he was acting like he had no idea why she had decided to take the risk.

Why is he being such a jerk? She let out a loud, vexed sigh.

“Why would I skip class for the first time in my life just to meet you if I don’t want to get it back? Just give it to me for God’s sake!” she yelled.

He remained silent.

“Where is my—”

“You will get it if you”—he walked away with a mischievous smile—“get the ball from me!” He picked up the ball from and arched a brow perfectly.

Viola was flabbergasted. She rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth, her blood boiling in anger. She knew what he was up to. The best player known in school—the one who brought victory to the team many times—was challenging her. Was he crazy? Their height and skills were in stark contrast.

“If you lose, you won’t get it,” he taunted.

She licked her lips and forced a smile. “Didn’t you say you’d return my notebook if I came on time?” She glared, throwing daggers at him.

“Did I?” he said, with feigned confusion written all over his face.

They looked at each other.

Viola sighed. “Fine.” Rolling up her baggy sleeves, she walked to the centre.

He followed her with his gaze, astonished. He thought she would give up. She bent low in position, legs spread apart and eyes fixed on Allen.

“Wow, you’re such a brave girl.”

His tone was serious, yet she thought of it as a mockery.

“Let’s have three matches, and if you win one of them, I lose.” He raised his hand with the ball to throw it up.

“One is enough,” she said.

A smirk flickered at the corner of her mouth when, this time, he looked at her, taken back. He blinked once and then confirmed.

“One?” he repeated.

She nodded and focused on the ball, but her brain betrayed her. Her eyes accidentally fell on his jaw when he looked up, and the view she had of him from below was magnificent.

He looks . . . Wait, no . . . She pushed her thoughts away. She needed to prove to him that he had challenged the wrong person.

Allen threw the ball high and moved back, giving her the lead. Viola dribbled the ball, paying attention as the sound of footsteps behind her got close. Before she could react, the ball was snatched away from her in a flash.

That was too fast! She rolled up her sleeves again and followed him.

His large arms were getting in her way to get the ball. He stopped by the three-point line and stood in position to shoot. He tossed the ball, and she blocked it. With the ball in her hands, she moved quickly. Allen managed to get behind her and hopped forward, but she spun, catching him off guard. Taking advantage of the moment while he was distracted, she shot the ball, and a satisfied grin spread on her face.

That was a perfect shot. She dusted her hands, purposefully making a loud noise to indicate that she had finished her job. She turned around, and her eyes widened.

Allen was staring at the ball, astonished.

“Wow.” His lips twitched, and he clapped. “You are awesome.” He gave her a thumbs-up with a gigantic grin.

She studied him, and for the first time, she thought his smile was not dangerous; it didn’t show that he was up to something. It was a real compliment and a genuine smile.

“Do you play?” he asked, curious.

“Not exactly. My dad just taught me how to play it.” She shrugged.

“Oh really?” He walked towards her. “That was amazing.”

His tone was definitely different from the way he had spoken to her earlier, and she somewhat liked him this way.

“I thought you would miss the shot.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a crooked smile. He was surprised throughout the game. He made his way to where the team benches were and picked up his bag. “I will not go back on my word this time,” he said and opened his bag.

Viola rolled down her sleeves and ran to the bench with an ear-to-ear smile. She finally felt relief when he brought the journal to her view.

“It seems like it’s something important.” He moved his hand forward.

She nodded, and her arms reached out for it.

“Allen!”

They both turned at the loud voice coming from the other side, and their smiles dropped. Mr Smith stomped towards them, a frown on his face.

“What are you all doing here during class time? You’re Viola, right?” He pointed at her with raised brows.

Viola lowered her head, staring at her clasped hands.

Allen looked at her sideways.

“It’s been only a few days since you joined, and you are already skipping class,” Mr Smith yelled.

“She has nothing to do with this,” Allen interrupted, sounding casual as if he was arguing with his friend. “She came here to get her notebook from me.”

His response surprised her.

“Talking to you is just a waste of time,” Mr Smith growled. He pointed at both of them and said, “You all are both in detention today.” Adjusting his glasses, he gazed down at Allen’s hand. “Give me that.”

Viola looked at him, and then at Allen, whose eyes were already on her. He nodded subtly with an arched brow and the look of “shall I?”