The gym had mostly emptied, leaving only the echo of sneakers and the faint hum of chatter. I was still scribbling notes, replaying every detail of the game in my head, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Lia."
I turned, and there he was—Aiden Cruz, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, uniform slightly rumpled, but still impossibly commanding.
"You stayed for the whole game," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Most reporters would've bolted after the first half."
"I… wanted to see everything," I said quickly, trying not to sound flustered. "Every play, every strategy… it's fascinating."
He tilted his head, studying me. "Fascinating, huh? That's one way to describe intense, sweaty chaos."
I laughed nervously. "I guess I have a thing for chaos."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good. You fit in then."
There was a pause, and I could feel the air shift—like he was considering something. Then, almost casually, he said, "Hey, you want a tour of the locker room? For… journalistic purposes, of course."
My heart skipped. Aiden Cruz. Inviting me—me—into the locker room? "Uh… sure," I stammered, trying to act cool.
Inside, the atmosphere was lively but respectful. Teammates teasing each other, Coach Ramirez giving pointers, and Aiden showing me how plays were called and executed. Every now and then, he would lean close to explain a detail, and my notebook barely kept up with his voice—or my racing thoughts.
Then, Marco appeared. He smirked at me from across the room, clearly noticing the proximity between Aiden and me. "Getting special access, huh?" he teased.
I froze. Aiden's brow furrowed slightly, but his hand brushed mine while pointing out a play on the whiteboard—a fleeting touch, almost accidental, but enough to make my pulse race.
"Careful," he said softly, not looking at me directly. "You might distract more than just the players."
I swallowed. "I… I'll try not to."
He gave me a quick, teasing smirk before straightening up and walking toward Coach Ramirez, leaving me with my notebook, cheeks burning, and thoughts in complete disarray.
As I packed up to leave, I realized something: surviving basketball practice was one thing… surviving the pull I felt toward him? That was going to be the real challenge.
And judging by Marco's smirk, I wasn't the only one who noticed it.