Super short and rushed.
//
The boy was impressed the first time he saw you playing volleyball in a match. He always thought that you were just a beginner who just joined the team because you were bored. He was stunned when he saw you walking onto the court with your boxer braid, a smirk that can kill, paired with the light in your eyes.
Even when Tom was fit and seemed like a person who enjoyed watching sports, he only focused on his acting classes, he never actually paid attention to any other classes so when Harrison dragged him into a room full of students from the college they studied in and others, he didn't have a choice.
Tom remember your face from the posters that were on the hallways, in the pictures you never seemed like the serious type, you looked like you just wanted to be a part of something and you decided to choose volleyball, but he was wrong.
In the first game he ever watched, you scored lots and lots of points for your team, everybody was cheering for the team but mostly for you. The number of blocks and strikes made Tom realized how wrong he was to think that you weren't good. You never served badly, every single movements were planned out perfectly, nothing could go wrong when it came to you and volleyball.
Even after matches, you would go back to the dome and practice. You were always pushing towards your limits, you tried your hardest to improve everyday.
The sound of you striking the ball down onto the cold floor danced across the almost empty room. It was a good strike, just like always. You continued to practice your serving and strikes until the sound of footsteps interrupted you.
"I didn't know you were this good, Y/n." You looked towards the entrance of the room, recognizing the boy as Tom.
"This is why you don't assume things, right?" You threw the ball up into the air, rotating your arm forward, hitting the ball, sending it across the net perfectly.
"Right." Tom took a seat on the bleacher, resting his elbow on his knees.
You continued to practice your serves until you were bored of doing the same thing over and over and over again. You half expected Tom to be gone, after all it was almost ten at night. Bouncing the ball against the floor as you walked towards him, you asked him a question he was expecting.
"Why are you still here?" The volley ball rested in your hands peacefully as you waited for his answer.
"You need help with your strikes?" He avoided your question. Thinking about it for a few seconds, you decided that this was a good opportunity for you to practice even harder.
"Sure."
After that night, Tom would always walk past the gym to see if you were there and like always, you were. You always were.
Tom wouldn't say it out loud but now that he had seen you playing in matches, he found it hot. Just the way the band wrapped themselves around your elbow and knees turned him on.
When he wasn't busy, he'd come by and help you practice just by throwing balls into the air and watch you strike it down. He found you extremely hot when you do that. He couldn't keep his eyes off the black tight short you always wore.
You guys bicker sometimes but soon jokes would follow. Days after days, you guys become more friendly towards each other.
Your heart jumped every time you saw him walking into the gym late at night. You were excited to see him and he was excited to see you.
Harrison was beginning to wonder why Tom would always come to the dorm late, he knew that it wasn't anything to do with acting. So he figured that it had to be something else.
