Worth The Shot

Chapter 2

In the days since joining the team, Chimon seemed to be fitting in quite well. He was quickly added to the team group chat, getting everyone's phone number, and being queued in to the pre-established traditions. Many of the guys pulled him into the banter.

Perth found himself watching curiously. Chimon is his phi by just one year, a person who has played many games against him. Though, he is stuck wondering why he has never taken much notice. Surely he would have been struck by those eyes, frozen in place by that smile, or flung from his stance by that laugh. Yet...Perth can barely place him in his memory. Running passed him in a game at the rival school to add two more points to the score and briefly studying his style when old games were played back. Despite that, Perth didn't fully notice him, like notice him notice him.

How could his mind so easily forget someone who has made his stomach flip and twirl so many times in one week? He felt desperate to learn more about him, intently listening as Fourth essentially interrogated him for personal information. Feeling the sparkle that fizzled in his stomach when he lingered on Chimon's form across the weight room. Causally watching, trying not to be caught, as Chimon lifted a 15 pound weight.

Before he knows it, one full week has passed by and it's Monday practice all over again. It's kind of odd. Perth didn't realize how fast those seven days flew by. He wasn't weighed down by the dread of practicing. As he jogs out to the court with his usual water bottle, his eye's immediately catch the sunny glow of Chimon. He is the reason.

Sure, Perth is feeling less discontentment, but not quite outgoing and overly excited to run down the court or join in the frivolous conversation.

The whistle sounds off from the head coach to begin another day of basic training. In stretches and simple warm ups, he notices the way Chimon smiles. He's so warm and bright like the sun at 6 o'clock in the morning. His charm brings the early morning birds to flutter their wings for a new day. That's exactly how Perth feels. Chimon's aura calls for him to soar in the sky, bathing in the rays of the sun.

Soon the whistle is ringing again. "Shooting drill number one, let's get into formation!" The coach calls out. It's a simple layup exercise, something that Perth is quite good at. He can easily shoot the ball into the hoop like this. It's an effortless task that Perth has practiced time and time again.

"That was incredible Perth. Too bad you're still not as good as me," Chimon teases as Perth moves to the back of the line. He's pulled right out of his thoughts to gaze at his phi, briefly. He has a smile more beautiful than the prettiest flower. Seeing the way his lips curve up, his teeth shine, and his cheeks round is so much better than a trophy after a long fought tournament.

"Let's see you then," Perth nods towards the goal, grinning. His face feels hot and he hopes to the gods above that he's not actually blushing.

And as the line moves forward, Chimon goes in for his layup. Of course, he made it. And with a smile. He was a bit sweaty and you tell he was exhausted, but that never seemed to stop his bright smile whether someone was looking or not.

It kind of puzzles Perth. Chimon is a whole year older than him and yet he doesn't seem worn down. They've both played college basketball all this time and still Chimon smiles when running down the court. He doesn't let his tiredness and low energy disturb his happiness. Perth wonders how he could do that?

"A quick break then let's get into two teams!" The head coach hollers from across the court.

Jogging towards the side bench with all the other guys. Sucking on the bottle, Perth glances to the new guy.

Right away, he catches Chimon's eye. He was already watching Perth. Feeling his entire body freeze, a rush of adrenaline flows through his body. It must be adrenaline. What else could it be? Certainly not silly shy butterflies. He's totally not into Chimon. He's not flurstered. No, he's just sweaty and exhausted from practice. That's right. He's just sweaty, not at all blushing.