Finding love

Part 3

The next day's activity was soccer—of course. The one sport I dreaded, and naturally, everyone else seemed to love. As we stepped onto the field, I wanted to sink into the ground.

"Teams are set!" a counselor called, blowing his whistle. Max ended up on my team, along with a bunch of other athletic guys. My stomach churned at the thought of how badly I was going to screw this up.

The game started, and I tried to stay invisible. Max moved effortlessly across the field, kicking the ball with confidence while everyone cheered. Meanwhile, I awkwardly shuffled around, praying no one noticed how out of place I was.

Then, it happened. (ofcourse it had to)

The ball came flying toward me. Without thinking, I stepped forward to intercept it but misjudged the distance. Instead of stopping it, the ball glanced off my shin, sending me stumbling. I managed to stay on my feet, but I could feel eyes on me. A few chuckles from the sidelines made my face heat up, but it wasn't the disaster I had imagined. I quickly regained my footing and gave a sheepish shrug, brushing off the moment. No harm done, but I still felt out of place.

I didn't stick around after the game. As soon as it was over, I ducked out of the group, pretending I needed to go grab something from the cabin. My chest felt tight, and I just wanted to disappear for a while.

I ended up sitting near the lake, staring out at the water and kicking at the dirt beneath my feet. The cool breeze brushed against my face, but it did little to calm the embarrassment gnawing at my insides.

"Mind if I sit?"

I jumped at the sound of Max's voice behind me. I hadn't even heard him coming. He was standing a few feet away, looking at me with that same relaxed smile that always made me feel like my brain short-circuited.

"Uh, yeah, sure," I mumbled, scooting over to make room on the log I was sitting on.

Max dropped down beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His shoulder brushed mine, sending a spark down my arm. I quickly looked down at my hands, hoping he couldn't see the redness creeping up my neck.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice casual but with a hint of concern.

"Yeah. I mean, no. I'm fine," I stammered, immediately hating how awkward I sounded. "I just... I suck at soccer."

Max chuckled softly, and the sound made my heart skip a beat. "Not everyone's a soccer star. No big deal."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, trying to laugh it off but failing miserably. "You're, like, good at everything."

Max raised an eyebrow and leaned back slightly, resting his arm on the log behind me. "Good at everything? Is that what you think?"

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Well... yeah. You're athletic, you're confident. You don't trip over your own feet every five seconds."

He laughed again, this time more genuinely, and the warmth in his voice made my stomach flutter. "Trust me, I've had my fair share of faceplants. But you know what? Who cares? No one's judging you as hard as you think they are."

I glanced over at him, surprised by how laid-back he seemed. His arm was still behind me, his hand resting just inches from my shoulder, and the casual proximity was doing strange things to my insides.

"You don't have to be great at sports, Ethan. No one's keeping score," he added, his tone playful now, his eyes sparkling with that same teasing glint I'd seen before. "Though... if you want, I could help you out."

"Help me out?" I repeated, my voice catching slightly. "With soccer?"

"With whatever you need," he said, the words laced with a mischievous edge that made my heart thump against my ribs. He leaned in just a fraction, as if trying to see my face from a better angle, and I could feel his breath on my skin. "I mean, I am the camp's resident expert on pretty much everything, right?"

I blinked, unsure if I was imagining the flirty undertone or if he was actually teasing me. My mind scrambled for something to say, but all I could focus on was how close he was now. His body was just inches from grazing against mine, his hazel eyes looking directly into mine, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the camp had disappeared.

"I... I don't know," I mumbled, trying to ignore the rush of heat flooding my cheeks. "I'm not sure if I'm... cut out for this stuff."

Max tilted his head, his smile softening into something more genuine. "You'll be fine, Eli," he said, using my nickname in a way that made my chest tighten. (I'm fairly certain he found out my nickname when Julia was yelling at the top of her lungs for me during breakfast.) "You just need to relax a little. Stop worrying so much about what everyone else thinks."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing with a hundred different things I wanted to say, but all I could manage was a small nod.

"Besides," Max added, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned back, his arm eventually brushing against mine again, "you've got other talents."

"Other talents?" I echoed, blinking in confusion.

"Yeah." He grinned, his eyes flicking to the sketchbook I'd brought with me and left lying on the ground. "Like drawing, for one. I saw that sketch of the canyon you were working on earlier. It's really good."

I stared at him, my heart pounding. He'd noticed my drawing?

"Thanks," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I could feel my face heating up again, the butterflies in my stomach going wild.

Max stood up, running a hand through his messy hair, and as he did, his fingers lightly grazed the back of his neck. While pulling onto his jersey is a fanning  motion. The gesture drew my attention, and for a moment, I found myself caught up in the casual, almost effortless way he moved. He noticed me looking and raised an eyebrow with that familiar teasing glint in his eyes. My face heated up instantly, and I quickly glanced away, but not before his smirk returned, like he knew exactly what had flustered me.

"Well," he said, stepping back, "if you ever change your mind about that soccer practice... let me know."

I nodded, still unable to find my voice.

Max started to walk away but paused just before he reached the edge of the trees. He turned back to look at me, his gaze lingering for a moment.

"By the way," he called out, a playful lilt in his voice, "you're not as bad at soccer as you think."

With that, he disappeared into the trees, leaving me sitting there, staring after him, my mind spinning in a million different directions. My chest felt tight, my skin buzzing with the memory of his touch, his smile, his words.

I slumped back against the log, exhaling slowly as I tried to process what had just happened. Was Max just being nice? Or... was there something more to the way he looked at me? The way he touched my arm, the way he said my name?

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, the fluttering in my chest refusing to die down. While I hoped deep down that camp would go well.

But then, a new thought hit me—a realization that made my stomach flip.

Max had noticed my drawing.

What else had he noticed?

                                      


                                     


                                       why can't ethan get the hint oml oml *disappointed head shaking*