Miss Little Cruel Girl

Chapter 12: Three's a Crowd

The squeak of sneakers on polished wood, the rhythmic thud of basketballs against the backboard, the shouts of encouragement and the groans of frustration - the sounds of a typical basketball practice at Northwood High.

But for me, it was a symphony of anxiety.

I stood hesitantly at the edge of the gym, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I hadn't seen Jason since our impromptu drive and heart-to-heart conversation on that hill overlooking the city. And now, here I was, about to break into his sacred space, his basketball sanctuary, with a proposition that was sure to disrupt his carefully ordered world.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and walked towards the court. The players, a blur of sweat-soaked jerseys and determined expressions, barely noticed me as I approached the bench where Jason was taking a break, a towel slung around his neck, a water bottle clutched in his hand. The air around him was thick with the scent of sweat, a masculine musk that was surprisingly... not unpleasant.

"Hey, Jason," I said, my voice a determined wedge through the shouts and squeaks of the gym.

He looked up, his face breaking into a wide, genuine smile.

"Lena!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with a tenderness that chased away the nervous butterflies fluttering in my stomach. "What are you doing here?"

He rose to his feet, his towering height and athletic grace making me feel suddenly small and awkward. He gestured towards the empty space beside him on the bench.

"Take a seat," he said, his smile widening. "What brings you to my humble abode of sweat and sportsmanship?"

I sat down, my gaze darting nervously around the gym, taking in the scene, the energy, the sheer physicality of it all. This was Jason's world, a world of competition, teamwork, and the pursuit of victory. And I, the girl who'd always preferred the quiet solitude of the computer lab, felt like an intruder, a glitch in the matrix of this carefully choreographed dance of athletic prowess.

"I need to talk to you, Jason," I said, my voice low, my gaze meeting his with a seriousness that wiped the smile from his face.

"About LockerChat."

Jason's smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Sure," he said, his voice serious. "But I've still got about thirty minutes left of practice. Is that okay? You can hang out here, if you want."

I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the basketball court, taking in the scene, the energy, the controlled chaos of it all.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, my voice a little hesitant. "I'll just... watch."

Jason grinned, a flash of solace that momentarily chased away the tension that had settled between us. "Alright, then. Showtime."

He clapped his hands together, his voice booming with authority as he addressed his teammates, who had gathered around him, their faces flushed, their chests heaving with exertion.

"Alright, guys, let's run that play again," he said, his voice sharp and clear, cutting through the din of the gym. "This time, I want to see more movement, more communication, more... hustle."

He demonstrated the play, his movements fluid and graceful, his body a blur of controlled energy as he dribbled the ball down the court, weaving between his teammates, his eyes scanning the court, anticipating their moves, directing the flow of the game with a flick of his wrist, a nod of his head, a shouted instruction that echoed through the gym.

I watched, mesmerized. I'd seen my fair share of basketball anime - Slam Dunk, Kuroko's Basketball - I knew the plays, the strategies, the thrill of the game. But seeing it in real life, the sweat, the exertion, the raw passion that fueled these boys' every move, it was something else entirely. It was captivating.