Hearts on the Court

Chapter 7: Small, But Significant

The break came after an intense first game, but no one was in the mood to eat—not yet, not after pouring so much of ourselves onto the court. 

If we tried to eat now, we'd probably just end up vomiting from the exhaustion. Instead, we all headed over to a shaded spot on the football field, escaping the relentless heat of the sun. I found a quiet corner, away from the noise, and settled against a wall, feeling my muscles slowly loosen up from the strain of the game.

From where I was sitting, I could see William sprawled out on the ground, drenched in sweat, his face flushed red from the effort. 

Yet, even in that state, he looked effortlessly... striking, like one of those models you see in fitness ads—completely unbothered by how exhausted he really was. His shirt clung to his chest, and though his hair was damp, he still managed to look composed, as if this whole ordeal had only added to his charm. I couldn't help but glance at him every now and then, though I tried to be subtle about it.

Feeling the exhaustion myself, I leaned my head back against the wall and popped my earphones in, letting my favorite playlist drown out the ambient noise around me. The music hit just right, and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to melt into the sounds. It was the perfect way to rest—to disconnect for a little while.

The thirty-minute break flew by quicker than I thought. When Coach called us back to warm up again, I peeled my eyes open and reluctantly pulled myself up from the ground. 

My legs felt heavy, but there was this buzzing energy under the fatigue, like I had more to give, even though my body was telling me I was already tired.

As we warmed up, Coach gathered us in a huddle, his voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. "Alright, guys," he started, his tone firm but encouraging. "This time, those who played in the second quarter will start. Give it your all out there."

Even though the exhaustion was setting in, something about his words, or maybe just the adrenaline kicking in, made me feel like I had a whole reserve of energy left to burn. The game started, and it was just as intense as the first one. 

The other team quickly realized we were getting tired and tried to exploit that, pushing harder, playing faster. But we weren't about to give in. Despite the fatigue weighing on all of us, we fought back with everything we had, and in the end, we came out on top.

The final buzzer sounded, and we won again. But the victory didn't feel like relief—it felt like pride. We had earned it, every point, every basket.

We had about an hour before the next game, so we returned to the football field to rest. This time, the sun had shifted, so we had to find another shaded spot. 

The whole team settled down, sprawling out in different corners. Most of the guys went to grab some tacos from the stand nearby, the smell of grilled meat wafting through the air. It was one of those simple moments—just us, hanging out, laughing, eating, the tension from the game slowly melting away.

I was halfway through my taco when a sudden scream pierced through the calm. "Aaaaaaah!" William's voice rang out, sharp and pained.

Without even thinking, I shot to my feet and sprinted towards him, my heart in my throat. He was lying on the ground, clutching his leg, his face twisted in agony. "What happened?" I asked, breathless.

"Cramp! Cramp, aaaaah!" he gasped, his hand gripping his thigh like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Instinctively, I dropped to my knees beside him and started working on his leg, moving it gently but firmly, trying to loosen up the cramp. My hands worked quickly, guiding his muscles to relax, and I could see the tension in his face slowly ease up as the pain began to subside. 

Coach Martin and Tom hovered nearby, ready to help if needed, but Coach took one look at what I was doing and nodded approvingly.

"You're doing great," Coach said. "I'll let you handle it—you seem to know what you're doing."

I kept my focus on William, feeling the tightness in his leg finally giving way. He was still lying on the ground, his breathing slowly evening out as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.

After I was sure the cramp had loosened up, I told him to rest for a bit while I went to the snack stand. I bought some electrolyte pills and a couple of snacks, knowing he would need to refuel after such an intense cramp. When I returned, William was still on the ground, his eyes half-closed as he tried to recover.

I sat down beside him, offering a hand to help him sit up, though I didn't lift him entirely—just enough so he could lean back against me. "Here," I said, handing him the pill. "This will help with the pain."

William looked up at me, gratitude shining in his eyes. "You're the best. Seriously, thank you for helping me with the cramp."

I smiled, handing him a water bottle. "No problem. Drink this, it'll help."

He took the pill and washed it down with the water, his face slowly softening as the discomfort faded. Then, I pulled out a bag of chips, the ones I'd overheard him talking about earlier with Tom. His eyes lit up when he saw them.

"Hey, how did you know I love these? They're my favorite!" he exclaimed, a surprised grin breaking across his face.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Oh, I just guessed." In reality, I had overheard him mentioning his favorite snacks on the bus, but I wasn't about to tell him that. He didn't need to know.

William tore into the chips, clearly thrilled, and for a few minutes, we just sat there, talking about nothing in particular. It felt... easy. Natural. Like this was where we were supposed to be, sharing a quiet moment in the midst of all the chaos.

After a while, William paused, looking at me with a curious expression. "I forgot to ask—how did you know what to do with my cramp? Coach and Tom were impressed."

I grinned, trying to stay nonchalant. "In high school, we had a season where everyone was getting cramps—me included. I learned pretty quickly how to deal with them, otherwise, I'd be sidelined too often."

He looked genuinely impressed. "That's really helpful. Seriously, thanks again."

I just nodded, the corners of my mouth lifting into a small smile. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you're feeling better. How's the leg now?"

"It's good," he said, smiling shyly. "Thanks to you."

We continued talking, sharing stories about high school and basketball, laughing about random things, and it was nice—really nice. He had this way of making conversation feel effortless, like we could talk for hours and it wouldn't get boring.

When it was time for the third game, Coach Martin approached William. "You good to play?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

William nodded confidently, though I could still see a bit of lingering pain in his eyes. "Yeah, don't worry, Coach. I'm fine. I can play."

As he walked away, I caught up to him, my hand brushing his shoulder. "Hey," I said quietly, "be careful, alright?"

He turned to me, flashing that wide, boyish grin of his that made him look like an excited kid. "I will," he promised. And for a moment, I forgot that I was taller than him, that he was older, because he looked so... cute. Innocent, almost.

The third game went just like the others. I played well, pushed myself to the limit, and once again, we won. By the end of it, my entire body ached, but the feeling of victory made it all worth it.

After the game, the team decided to head to a mall nearby, a celebratory outing before we returned to campus. As we walked, William nudged me with his elbow, grinning. "Thanks again for saving my leg back there. I owe you."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You don't owe me anything. Just... stay out of trouble."

But deep down, I felt like something had shifted between us. Something small, but significant.