My Fictional Boyfriend

Chapter 20 ~ Volleyball

A lunch with one of this country's most popular personality... let me correct it: one of the world's most popular personality. Despite all those paranoia and anxiety of being caught, I enjoyed it so much.

"I told you to let me have an autograph or you must have simply called me where you're going." Liam was the only person I told about my lunch with James "Jamie" Mendoza except for Marvin, of course, and my parents. Mom asked eagerly what had happened and I told them excluding those "I hate being not normal" parts.

I did not want to boast about it. Some of my schoolmates were obsessed with him. I did not want to make them feel envy of me or force me to give his number because I had no right to give it to them. "It came up suddenly and I am not even prepared. I don't usually go to lunch with guys." I lowered my voice because we were in the classroom.

"But I often eat lunch with you. Lunch dates."

I scowled at him. "That's different. You're my bestfriend and he is just some goddamn famous hot superstar who I just met. Besides, they're not lunch dates."

"What if he likes you?" His tone was serious.

"Not a chance."

He sighed. "Oh, come on, Ella. You're beautiful and funny he should figure that out. And I don't trust him."

"Seems that minutes ago you're blaming me for not having an autograph of him and now you say you don't trust him."

"He is my idol but I don't trust him when it comes to you," he silently said.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Are you jealous, Liam?"

He did not respond.

"There's nothing going on between James—Jamie Mendoza and me. I swear." I explained. He needed clarification. "Like that would happen. I don't want to have celebrity boyfriend. I know what it takes; he paparazzi, the negative comments, and millions of rivals."

"I am not jealous." He stared at the whiteboard infront of our classroom. "I have no right to."

"Liam, let's not go to this topic again, please?" I held his wrist.

"I know. I am just protecting you. I don't want you to get hurt again." He looked at me now.

I smiled and diverted our topic. "Okay. So, I hate volleyball."

He smiled, thankfully. I did not want him to frown especially when knew it was because of me. "Neither do I." For our Physical Education subject, we had to play Volleyball. We hated volleyball. I had gotten a headshot twice in my eighth grade and once last year. Clearly, that game was not for me.

After our PE teacher called us down to the sports gym, I changed my uniform into my sports attire.

"Ugh, I hate this!" Kate, my classmate that used to be seatmate, said. At least I was not alone with this.

"Why? I love it." Candice disagreed.

"Well, you love everything. Even..." One of her friends said.

"Teachers." Her another friend finished.

I went out the locker room and Aly emerged from the shower room. "Ready for this?" she asked.

"No."

She smiled and shrugged. "No choice." She grabbed my forearm and led me to the gym.

The gym was one of the largest areas in our campus, next to the auditorium and function hall. It was a covered basketball court with different overlapping lines for Volleyball, Tennis, and Badminton. Hundreds of seats were encircling it. Coach Jazz, my PE teacher, whose long brown hair was in a pony tail, told us we would play a game. I would be in the first batch. Girls versus girls. I may have the advantage of height, standing five and a half-foot tall compared to the average five and two inches girls in my class, but never well at playing it or any sports at all.