. Her hair was curled to perfection, big green eyes highlighted by a winged eyeliner, slender figure hugged by lilac colored romper, and above all—a deadly look in the eyes. She got acknowledged by a few whipped heads on her way to our table, steps airy and confident. And when her hands met the wood, she smiled a smile which didn't seem legit.

"Hey," she paused and let her eyes fall on each of us one at a time. "Stella and Chloe. And you."

Her voice was edged like a sword, but on her face continued to pertain the smile I was starting to doubt a lot more. I nodded and reciprocated the warmth regardless of it being real or fake. "Hey, it's Laura."

She nodded, and then looked over to the place right beside Stella. She sighed, as if she knew what was going to happen. Ciara swiftly sat right next to her, eyes glistening. She was a stunner, and that was for sure—and she made sure to show it in the way she walked, talked, and dressed. Up close, her eyes were light brown, hands moving constantly: as if she were trying to make a point.

"Hey, Laura, I'm Ciara," she paused, "And I am sorry to barge in on you and your friends like that, but I need to talk and address something with you."

A nervous laugh passed my lips before I nodded again. "Sure, what is it?"

"Evan. . .I think we have a misunderstanding."

As soon as his name left her mouth, my palms grew clammy with sweat. All I asked was for one day—one day without him or his name in a random conversation. "What about him?"

She sighed. "People talk, but I don't know what to believe. And since you don't seem half as bad as what they're portraying you to be, I wanted to talk to you directly. Did you. . . punch Evan?"

My eyes went saucer-like, jaw hanging on the floor. What the hell? The thought had passed my mind on the initial days, but I hadn't ended up doing any damage. Before I could reply, Stella had scoffed. "He apologized to her. I don't think that would've happened if she punched the Golden Boy himself."

"I didn't punch him, for God's sake," I raised an eyebrow. "I was already late to my class, didn't have time to show some fist moves."

Ciara grinned. "I heard what he said, and to be completely honest? I would've cheered for you if he weren't a friend," her hands went to Stella's plate of food, and the latter groaned to no avail.

I twisted my lips in a smile, and Ciara was shuffling in her seat again. "Anyway, girls, I am going to stop bothering you. And Laura, if the asshole ever troubles you—call me."

I only chuckled, but Stella had her enquiries. "Everyl, is that your best pick-up line?"

She only managed to shoot her a smirk, head turned half-way to look at us. "You'd be surprised, Reyes."

Chloe was grinning when she left, hands back to her burrito. "What a madwoman," she face-palmed, "Are they dating? Evan and her?"

Stella sat back, eyes scanning the crowd. "I don't think so," her eyes landed on mine. "But they seem close as hell."

Seemed exactly like it. I hummed, slurping down the chocolate milkshake in my hands. "Have they been friends for long?"

"As long as I can remember," Chloe muttered, "I mean, both of their dads are famous in the same industry, they might as well be family friends."

Stella gave me a side-eye. "Why? Don't tell me," she paused, and looked back up. I had rolled my eyes to another dimension, yet embarrassment flooded my cheeks. Not because I liked him, of course—I barely knew him—but because the thought in itself was ridiculous beyond words.

Stella pointed at my cheeks, and I stole food off her plate as revenge. "Your cheeks, they're literally on fire. Chloe, do you smell something burning?"

I managed to pass Chloe a deadly glare, equivalent to the words don't you even dare. Chloe winked at me, and then whistled. "It's just your future, Stels."

Stella rolled her eyes, bangs falling to her eyes. These girls were like meteors, glowing and emitting light in my orbits—and even though the past held me hostage, they made everything worth it and more.

▂

Smell of freshly baked waffles engulfed my senses when I walked through the main door. The warmth inside the house was a stark contrast to my freezing self, and Liam stood in the kitchen, hands steady on the countertop as he bobbed his head to some music. "Hey."

"Oh, hey," he rolled his eyes, ruffling his hair. "How was shopping?"

I dropped to the sofa, letting the singular bag fall off my shoulders. "A shitshow."

He laughed. "Stop being such a pessimist. I hope you bought something."

I sighed, whipped the black dress which shone under the yellow lights. Liam raised a single eyebrow, giving me a little smile. "I did. How're you doing? You don't tell me anything nowadays."

"Says you," he scoffed, "I'm fine. Though you, my little sister," he sang as he took the waffles out and put them on the plates, prancing swiftly around the kitchen. "need to tell me how you're doing."

"Like what? I'm fine too."

He sighed. "I just noticed, the last time I asked you who dropped you here after school, you ignored my question. Enlighten me now?"

I laughed nervously. "Oh, I told you. Just a friend." Friend. Was he really one? I barely knew him, and I called him that twice. There was no harm in calling him that, indeed, but Liam and I just seemed to have weird conditions on whether or not someone was to be called one—and now, I wanted to smack my head on the adjacent drawers.

He raised his eyebrows, just as expected. "And that's what intrigues me. Who's this new friend you've made?"

I groaned. "There's a. . .guy."

He hummed. "So, friend? Or friend friend?"

I gave him a onceover, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. With my phone in my hands, I was barely paying attention to what he had to say now. "I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

"Oh, but you do know what that means."

When I understood what he was probably thinking, I turned a deep crimson. "What he hell, Li?"

He coughed, fists balling to his sides but his face still mischievous. "Just kidding."

He came out with two plates and set them on the table beside the couch. His eyes were dazed honey, lips twitched, hands tied. I knew he was about to say something unrealistic and embarrassing—in his normal Liam fashion. "There is no need for you to get so defensive. I was just curious."

The reason for my death would be public humiliation, I was sure—because my face was the reddest it had ever been, heart bouncing in my ribcage. I pointed a steady finger, jabbed his chest lightly. "Shut up, God—"

"Jesus, kid, calm down! I'm not going to hunt him down if you like him or something," he said softly, "though I'd like to meet him and see it in person if it's fine to keep him."

Keep him. My brain stopped, hands frozen in the air. And when my senses returned back to normal, I wanted to punch the living daylights out of his face. "What are you even getting at?"

He whistled, letting out a little laugh. "Feels like we're back in elementary school."

I shook my head, flipping him off with a sugar-dripping smile. "Feels like every other day since elementary school, because you never stopped bullying me."

▂

"Over here, Ari!"

I ran towards the girl who was supposedly Ari—distracting her and making her aim the shot wrongly. A redhead on our team got hold of the ball, ran all across the court and threw it at me. I was panting, ponytail swinging in all directions before I rushed and dodged the defending team with ducks and jumps—all before taking the last dunk shot of the game.

There was a whistle.

All the girls ran out of the court in the same disoriented motion, grunting and panting heavy breaths. Tiredness restrained my moves so badly that I held onto my breath and crouched a little, only for Coach to blare his whistle precisely at me.

When I was outside of the court, he flicked a finger, motioning for me. I was still panting, the world almost becoming starry. "Yes, sir."

He was turned the other way, now whistling at a bunch of guys who were walking around the court without an aim. Other guys aspiring to be on the team quickly filled the space of the court as I scanned the crowd again.

"Yes, you," he said, attention still diverted, "that was commendable. I have never seen you around—Laura?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

He grunted. "Practice at eight A.M tomorrow, don't be late."

"Of course not," I spoke, and then: "Wait, no—I mean, yes! How do you know my name?"

He looked at me like I was a joke, and then pointed at a guy who was leaning against one of the walls—eyes distant, hair a gorgeous mess, arms crossed. Evan. "He told me you were fit to be on the team."

He suggested me to the Coach. I broke into a nervous laughter. "And you believed him?"

He made a bored expression, almost like he would rather sleep than tolerate me.

"Shouldn't I listen to the captain of the boys' basketball team, and the best player of the school?"

I dropped my eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry."

He waved a hand, a hint of a smile on his lips. As I retreated backwards from our conversation, my eyes scanned the crowd once again, halting on a certain pair of blue eyes. His hand was tangled in his hair, legs crossed and shoulders tense.

And he was glaring right back.

I wished to know what went through that pretty little head of his, but the walls he has built around himself were far too high. I dropped the eye-contact, heading towards the opposite side with my jelly-like legs.

A hand roughly grabbed my right arm, rushing into making my body rotate a three-sixty. Evan's eyes were soft, hands immediately falling back to place. His touch lingered. "For a player like you, you're really slow."

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. He was following—steps deliberately little. He tugged at my arm again, though this time his touch was light as a feather, pulling me nearer towards him.

He was beyond gentle with his actions, hands dwindling downwards immediately and feet walking a couple feet apart to give me space. I still glared at him. "What?"

"Wouldn't want your head in two pieces due to the impact of the ball on your head now, would we?"

I sighed, stepped a little farther from the court, and continued to walk. I didn't want to talk to him —or maybe I did—but seeing him follow was satisfying beyond words. "Hey, Edwards," he was grinning, "What did the coach say?"

"He told me to join the practices from next week," I peered over on his face; there was a small, jagged scar running right below his ear, right at the corner of his jaw. I couldn't stop staring. "Why didn't you tell me you were the captain of boys' basketball, so that I could save that bit of embarrassment?"

"You looked pretty cute, all flustered."

When he noticed I wasn't going to reply to his remarks which sent my heart into an overdrive, he briskly caught up to me whilst I grabbed a seat right across the court.

Evan Parker was sprawled next to me, long legs and arms resting on his knees. I had given him the cue to leave enough times today, but he stuck to me in his glory of midnight callousness and fervent gaze. His cheekbones held high, fingers played with the numerous rings he wore, curls dampened around his forehead—and even if he was a mess much like me, he looked comically fictitious. Unreal. How someone could be this bewitching, I was left to be wondering forever.

"You were impressive on the court," he began, eyes meeting mine.

I snorted, "The more compliments you give, the more unbelievable you get."

He looked interested, dragging his attention from the defense team to me. "Now, what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're being awfully nice, I guess," I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. He looked as if I had ridiculed him to no bounds, eyes narrowing at me. "Oh, my bad—I thought you'd like to be treated well."

I laughed, and so did he. But before I could respond a guy came running all the way from what looked like football practice, on his face a grin of a clown. In a haste, he slid across the bleachers and sat beside Evan.

"You played amazing, Laura!"

Almost ten people turned to see who shouted like that, half of which were girls who almost melted at the sight. Coach gave him a side-eye but didn't blow his whistle like he did for every minor inconvenience, and while Xavier took off in a while, Evan jumped off the bench.

"Hey, wait!" I followed him, nearing knocking my foot and tumbling down. Great, the tables have reversed. He shook his head, bemused. "Why'd you recommend me to the Coach?"

"I just told him there's a basketballer whose existence he didn't know about."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, you can accept that I do play well."

"I'm just trying to be the asshole you want me to be, Edwards." He smiled coyly.

Ignoring him, I grabbed my sports bag from the adjacent bench and jogged to him again. "How many days do the practices happen?"

He shrugged. "It depends. If he isn't satisfied, he calls every day."

Color drained out of my face, but I nodded as if it was something told to me a hundred times before. "And how many days do you attend?"

He drilled his eyes into mine, hand playing with his bag strap. "Almost every day, I need to supervise. Why exactly do you ask this?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to meet his gaze again. "You don't mean that everybody practices under your supervision, right?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he hummed, "Ciara's there for the girls. Not anything to be worried about, I hope?"

He winked.

Ciara. I shrugged, even if my brain chanted: abort mission. "You'd wish I was, Parker."

He just laughed at that.

▂

A month in this school was still wasn't enough for me to be well familiar with the surroundings. Leo stood right in front of me, all whilst a dubious hustle partook in the many noises which filled the corridor air. It was English Literature, I was sure—but looked far from it. Announcements blasted through the speakers all around us, reverberating with the metal-on-metal ringing monotone.

Leo's eyes were trained right in front, arm muscles tense and jaw clenched. It seemed as though he had a question at the tip of his tongue, but Xavier kept interrupting for him to sum up to anything good.

There were, not to mention, too many people squeezing past us—chatter and laughs filling the air, letting anxiety restrict my speech and moves. I had to remind myself to breathe; let the air fill my lungs so I rose back from the underwater.

Leo finally asked me a question, pulling me right out of the scary web of my thoughts.

"What class do you have now?"

He knew we had English. We all did. But none of the students were leaving the corridor, making it hard to tell what was going on. Xavier looked at me for a second—there was tiredness running across his face, pulling his lips into a frown. From the corner of my view, I could see Raymond dragging himself up to us.

"English."

Nobody said a word until Raymond groaned, "Yo, why are we mourning today?"

Xavier almost rose his voice before slowly unclenching his jaw and dropping a flaccid hand on his shoulder. "Have you all seen Evan?"

Leo sighed. "I called him yesterday, man; didn't pick up. Why?"

The only question I had in my head was how they must've reached school, because they all carpooled with Evan in his car. I couldn't hold my tongue, "How did you come to school, then?"

They all laughed at me. I loved being the center of mockery with these guys.

"We do have means of transportation, Laura," Raymond quirked up his lips. Xavier was busy scrolling through his phone, and I missed Stella and Chloe terribly. They had different classes, however—and I could only meet them at lunch.

We were running an awful amount of late, now, and it didn't help my mind wandering off the possibilities of the whereabouts of Evan. Why I was so perturbed remained a question unanswerable, and Xavier politely dropped my gaze when I saw worry flash through his eyes.

"Gotta go, we have English," Leo's words were rushed, almost pinpricking at the skin if I were a stranger. I knew them enough to not call myself one, but still felt the heat of getting cut out from knowing a chunk of information. Raymond had readily nodded, giving us the perfect cue to leave. The problem was the one percent interest I had with me for the English lecture was down in flames.

"Alright. Just tell me if you, you know, get a call or something," Ray was anxious, and I could see it all over his visage. When I narrowed my eyes at him, he shook his head—making a large amount of his dirty blonde dance on his forehead. Xavier gave me a toothy smile, "Don't worry, Laura. The guy is the most stubborn."

It really was none of my business, so I nodded and walked right out of the talk. Despite not wanting to be much associated with him, my mind kept moving in circles—circles which wholly orbited around him.

• • •

hey hello! how are you today? i hope you're doing well and staying safe. let me know what you think of this chapter, and don't forget to vote and comment if you liked. laura and evan are a major part of my sanity right now, and i truly hope they make your days a little better :) you're golden.

~ abrial