𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬

30

I open my eyes to see Kenny standing over me.

"Good morning, starshine," he says, grinning. "The earth says hello!"

I groan and shoo him away. "Get the fuck out, Kenny."

"Come on, man, we have to leave in one hour for the game," he insists.

I stretch and finally get out of bed, realizing it's already 4 PM. I slept for way too long. Our game starts at 7 PM.

I grab my jersey from the desk—the one I gave to Alina, hoping she'd wear it to show she was mine. But she never did, and it still sits there, a reminder of what could have been.

I scrub my pearly whites and hit the bathroom before heading out.

Downstairs, I double-check I've got all my stuff before we all head out the door.

"Let's roll!" Reed shouts, and we all stream out the door.

Our whole team can't fit in one car, so we split up into three.

The hype music tears through the speakers as we drive to the stadium.

I'm still sneezing and feel like total shit, but I can't let the team down.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the pounding headache in my temple caused by the loud music and Damian's horrible singing.

It feels like forever until we finally reach the stadium. When we get there, it's completely empty, which makes sense since the game doesn't start for another two hours.

Still, we need to get ready, so we start unloading and preparing ourselves for the big match.

"Let's fucking go, Parker,"

I groan, grabbing my bag off the seat and stepping out of the truck. The sunlight makes my headache even worse.

"You okay, bud?" Reed asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. He nods and starts chatting with Kenny.

᯾

I take a shot from the three-point line and miss, which is really unlike me. I sigh, my migraine getting worse with the bright lights, the roaring crowd, and all the running back and forth.

The coach calls a timeout. We're down by 20 points, and halftime is approaching.

"God damn it, Parker! What's with all these misses? You haven't made a single shot this whole game," he shouts.

"I don't know, Coach. I'm just not feeling myself today," I respond. Everything looks blurry and strange.

"Well, get it together," he demands before starting to discuss our next moves. As we break from the huddle, I'm feeling dizzy.

The dance team is still in the middle, hyping up the crowd, and I spot Alina. Her ankle looks much better, and I'm glad she can dance again.

Just as I'm walking back onto the court, I see black dots. Then, I pass out.

The crowd gasps as I turn around and see Teddy on the floor, looking as pale as a ghost. I react quickly and run over to him.

"Teddy!" I scream as his team surrounds him. Sweat glistens on his skin as everyone panics. He's placed on a stretcher, and I follow as the stadium falls into a dead silence.

His eyes slowly open as I trail behind the paramedics. "Teddy!" I call out, and his eyes meet mine.

"Alina, what's happening?" he asks weakly.

"You're being sent to the hospital," I explain.

"Can you come with me?" he asks.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here," the paramedic says firmly.

"She can, she's with me," Teddy replies, his eyes barely open. His voice is faint, and he looks incredibly pale and sick.

This must be why the professor called him out in class today.

The paramedic nods, acknowledging Teddy's words, and they carefully lift him into the ambulance.

My heart flutters at how Teddy insisted on having me in the ambulance instead of his teammates.

It's a tense moment, filled with both worry and relief.

I can already sense that this incident will spread like wildfire, just like that video of him punching Liam on the school's gossip page.

I sit down right beside Teddy as he unexpectedly takes my hand and holds it tightly. His skin is burning hot to the touch.

"Alina, I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice weak but sincere.

"Teddy, let's not talk about this right now. You're sick," I say softly, brushing his hair out of his face with a gentle touch.

"I should have never treated you so horribly, Alina. You're amazing, and I don't deserve you," he confesses, his eyes fluttering closed.

I stare at him, my heart aching with a mix of emotions, and it's not long before he drifts off to sleep, his grip on my hand loosening but still there.

᯾

"Turns out he just has the flu," the doctor says, jotting down notes as I sit next to Teddy, who is sleeping on the hospital bed.

"He shouldn't have been playing; that's why he passed out," she adds, shaking her head in disapproval.

Teddy's coach stands nearby, looking worried, while the rest of his teammates wait anxiously in the waiting room. They lost their game.

"I wouldn't have let him play if I knew he was sick," the coach says defensively, but the doctor shoots him a stern look, clearly unimpressed.

As the doctor finishes her notes, she looks at me with a reassuring smile. "He just needs rest and plenty of fluids. He should be fine in a few days."

I nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. Teddy stirs slightly, his grip on my hand tightening for a moment before relaxing again.

The coach sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I'll go inform the team. They need to know he's going to be okay."

As the coach leaves the room, I lean closer to Teddy, whispering softly, "You're going to be alright. Just rest now."

The room falls silent, except for the steady beeping of the monitors and Teddy's soft breathing. I sit back in the chair, determined to stay by his side until he wakes up.