A Little Lost

Chapter Eleven: The game

LOUIE

I was on my break at the café where I work, catching up with Sandra as usual. We were seated at our usual corner table, nursing our drinks and exchanging the latest gossip. Sandra was practically bouncing in her seat, her excitement almost palpable.

"Oh my gosh, Louie, you should have seen Derrick this morning," Sandra gushed, her eyes sparkling. "He was—"

For a moment, my mind tuned out drifting back to that morning a week ago. I had woken up in Derrick's bed, sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow on the room. Derrick was sprawled beside me, sound asleep. His ruggedly handsome face, with that chiseled jawline and deep brown eyes, was etched into my memory. Even in his relaxed state, he radiated a masculine allure. I'd slipped out quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

Sandra's voice yanked me back to the present. "So, are you coming?"

I blinked, momentarily lost. "Coming where?"

"To the basketball game this weekend!" Sandra practically shouted, her enthusiasm infectious. "Derrick will be there, playing with Kuya Ian."

I hesitated. The thought of seeing Derrick again made me nervous, but Sandra's excitement was hard to resist. "Sure, I'll come."

The day of the game arrived, and the atmosphere in the arena was electric. The crowd buzzed with energy, the rhythmic drumming of the cheerleaders setting the tone. Sandra and I had great seats, close to the court. She waved her poster with unrestrained enthusiasm, practically vibrating with excitement.

As the players were introduced, I was drawn to Derrick's commanding presence on the court. Every movement he made exuded confidence and power. His athletic build was impressive, and the grace with which he moved was almost hypnotic. Ian, wearing a sleek black jersey, was equally captivating. His precise ball handling and sharp shooting made me admire him even more.

The game itself was a thrilling spectacle. Derrick's agility was on full display as he darted around the opposing team, executing impressive drives to the basket. Ian's strategic plays and sharp shooting kept the score climbing. The crowd's cheers grew louder with each impressive move—Derrick soaring through the air for a dunk that had the entire arena on its feet, and Ian's three-pointer that had everyone roaring with approval. The game was full of dramatic moments: a tense block, a dramatic steal, and heated exchanges between players that kept everyone on edge.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, signaling our team's victory, Sandra was practically vibrating with excitement. I was thrilled too, but I could also feel a strange undercurrent of tension. As the arena began to empty, I glanced over at Ian, who had just come over for a quick drink.

He looked great in that black jersey, his muscles flexing as he took a swig of water. Ian's eyes met mine, and he gave me a smirk that made my cheeks flush. I was caught off guard by how attractive he looked, and I couldn't help but blush under his gaze.

From across the room, I noticed Derrick watching us intently. There was something almost predatory in his gaze—an intense, focused look that made my heart race. His eyes seemed to lock onto me, creating a sense of anticipation and unease.

After the game, as the arena started to empty, I felt a sudden urge to hit the restroom. I made my way there, but just as I finished up, I heard the door lock behind me. Turning, I saw Derrick standing by the exit, his expression serious. He grabbed my arm and guided me into a nearby stall, shutting the door behind us.

The small space felt even smaller with Derrick so close. We locked eyes, and I could feel my pulse quicken. "You left me that morning," Derrick said, his voice low and intense. The proximity made every word feel more significant, and the air around us seemed charged with tension.