Heart shots

LATE (Part 19)

I was getting ready when I heard my teammates calling me, and I sped up, "AAaannnnnd here we are done with the shoelace, now let's gooo."

Saying this, she rushed to open the door, and there it was, the dopamine rush all over her body, because opening the gate, her eyes by default went to that person who made her nervous, shocked, and happy at the same time.

She saw Carson just standing in front of the guys' changing room. She halted on her steps, but she was fast enough to smooth it out and match it with her speed.

He saw her too coming out of the girls' changing room, well, he was intentionally standing outside the boys' changing room, just to see her, because their changing rooms are just opposite.

I was quite busy because brezzy called me to help her with some charity work for Hyedrelin, but it's ok because at least Brezzy is changing. Still, now I don't wanna waste any more time. I can't wait to see her, because honestly, I am very addicted to our little awkward eye contacts, and as much as I cherish her and these eye contacts, I can't wait to get to know her more and actually fall more for her. Still, if I am going this crazy over her right now, I don't know how I'll survive when I fall more, because it seems there is no end to love, and I can't stop with her.

Well, he's simped up, but it seems Blyana is still unsure about "love".

Let's move on. He saw her, but she just mindlessly went towards the court as if nothing had happened. Was he really that insignificant to her? These small things affected him, but he just shrugged them off, not thinking much, and he headed towards the court.

Now it's show time. Let's get ready for the match. All of them warmed up while the coach was setting up the timer, and we all set up with our teams as the coach blew the whistle, and the match started.

We were on different teams, as always, and I found my gaze lingering on her constantly. There's a fine line between liking someone and loving them, and I'm not sure I've crossed it yet—I'm just lost in her.

She moved with a quiet focus—eyes on the ball, feet gliding with measured efficiency. When she feinted left and shifted right, the defense hesitated, and an opening appeared. I held my breath as the shot left her fingers and sailed to the hoop.

Their defense pressed hard, but we found a rhythm—passes snapping into place, runs planned with patient anticipation. The score bounced back and forth, each point earned by grit and smart decisions. The crowd's buzz swelled with every near-miss and every clean score.

Time seemed to slow, then speed up as the clock ticked down. A final burst, a shared look between teammates that said more than cheers could. The whistle blew, and the match ended to applause, high-fives, and the sting of a hard-fought game.

We gathered our breath and reclaimed our rhythm. I looked again toward her corner, where pride and fatigue mingled in her face. The line between liking and loving seemed to blur a little more with every heartbeat of the game. For now, the moment stayed—bold, brief, and true.

After the whistle, the gym noises faded into a comfortable hum. We jogged through a light cool-down, muscles loosening and lungs settling. Someone cracked a joke, and the team laughed, the tension easing into camaraderie. 

The bench emptied, water bottles clinking as we collected ourselves. The coach praised small but sharp improvements, reminding us to shake off the rough plays and focus on getting better tomorrow. I nodded along, but my attention kept drifting back to her—watching the way she moved, the quiet confidence in her.

As we packed up, a few stray compliments floated over the court—for the teamwork, the effort, the final shot that had almost found its mark. I realized that the game hadn't just tested our skills; it had deepened how I saw the moment and, more specifically, was worth the attention I gave to her.

Walking out into the cool evening, the lights flickering on in the parking lot, the air felt lighter. The day's tensions loosened.

I walked with my friend behind the crowd, taking it easy as they headed back to the dorms. The breeze brushed my face, and the moment felt peaceful, a calm that instantly reminded me of Blyana. Even in tense or dangerous moments, thoughts of her pop into my mind. I can't help but want to look at her more.

Observing her, I realized one thing: whatever I have for Blyana might grow into something beautiful and painful, but beauty is pain, too. 

I gazed at her from time to time, as we were going towards the dormitories. It was great, the chilled air with her view, quite too great, I was hoping that this moment would last for a long time, but to ruin it, someone called me.

Brezzy asked if I had her perfume with me, because of the volunteering, and we decided to meet in the cafeteria, so I took leave, waving at my friends. I briefly looked at Blyana, then went my own way.

The cafeteria's hum drifted around us as I found the table where Breazzy had settled earlier, the air tasting faintly of coffee and vanilla from her perfume. I slid the small bottle across the laminate—a simple, almost casual motion that felt heavier than it looked.

Brezzy's fingers closed around the cap with careful ease, the glass catching a sliver of light and throwing a soft gleam onto her knuckles. She studied the label for a heartbeat, then looked up, meeting my gaze with a calm that didn't pretend nothing had happened.

"Thanks for bringing this back," she said, her voice low enough that the nearby clatter faded into background texture. The words were as ordinary as this morning's errands, yet they hung there with a weight that didn't require grand gestures.

Carson replied, offering a small, honest smile. "Not stealing little things, just returning what's yours to keep you... yourself."