"I'll just be goalie."
Her voice cut through the buzz of the gym, light but edged with something else resignation, maybe. I lifted my head instinctively.
"It's volleyball; there's no goalie!" someone laughed.
She turned sharply toward the teacher, repeating herself with just enough defiance to make my chest tighten. He clutched his clipboard under his arm, scribbling something down, eyes flicking toward her only briefly before returning to the page.
"That's next week," he said flatly. "But I have you down as goalie, Portia."
She sighed, slow and controlled, then shifted her gaze back toward the gym floor.
"Go ahead and join Kentrell's team, please."
My heart stumbled.
I watched her straighten, resolve settling into her shoulders. When her eyes found me across the room, something in her expression softened. Her lips moved quiet, almost unsure shaping my name like she was testing it.
Kentrell.
She pointed subtly, brow lifting in question.
I nodded, small and quick.
That was all it took.
She made her way toward my side of the gym, measured steps, nervous energy buzzing just beneath the surface. When she reached the line behind me, she leaned in just enough that only I could hear her.
"I'll do my best."
I turned slightly, meeting her eyes. "That's all that matters."
She smiled small, real and slipped fully into place behind me.
And just like that, my focus was wrecked.
⸻
The hallway afterward was quieter, the chaos of gym fading behind us. I was halfway through shoving my stuff into my locker when I felt her stop beside me.
"Hey," she said casually.
I froze internally. Played it cool externally.
"Hey."
She leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, watching me with a look that made my pulse jump. "You know," she said lightly, "Ms. Johnson almost marked attendance before I came in."
I swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Mmhmm." She tilted her head. "Funny how you just happened to be at her desk right then."
Heat crept up my neck. "Coincidence."
She smiled wider. "You're a terrible liar."
I glanced at her, caught the teasing glint in her eyes. "You made it on time. That's what matters."
She stepped a little closer. Not enough to touch. Enough to be noticed.
"Still," she said softly, "thank you."
My chest tightened. "Anytime."
She studied me for a second longer, then pushed off the locker. "See you in class, hero."
Hero.
She walked away before I could respond.
The second she turned the corner, my composure shattered.
I exhaled hard, gripping the edge of the locker like it might anchor me.
She noticed.
She teased me about it.
She called me a hero.
I pressed my forehead briefly against the cool metal.
Get it together.
⸻
"Bro."
Joe's voice snapped me back to reality once we were halfway down the next hall.
"What?"
He smirked. "You do realize you're down bad, right?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You stalled attendance," he said. "You volunteered for volleyball. You looked like you were about to fight the teacher when her name went on the board."
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Joe shook his head. "You like her."
I shrugged. "She's my friend."
"Yeah," he said dryly. "And I'm the principal."
I didn't respond.
Joe bumped my shoulder lightly. "Just don't break your own heart, man."
Too late, I thought.
Because all it took was her noticing and suddenly I was standing in a hallway, trying to remember how to breathe.
