maverick was sure he was going to kill someone tonight. who? he wasn’t sure yet.

what he does know, is that since he saw your fucking irritating face in the crowd, he’s been totally off mark. even london wallace, his best friend, yelled at him for missing an easy shot he would’ve never missed.

for as long as maverick could remember, everything always revolved around you. crimson, as he nicknamed you. mainly due to your blushing tendencies that happened even over the small things. even his own mother, practically praised you if you were some kind of angel. which, sure, his parents and yours were best friends—and the two of you were next door neighbors, but that gave you no right to be there. here even.

maverick loved control. he fed off on it. even on the basketball court, he always made sure he had control, even if he didn’t have the ball. but with you? all of that control completely flew out the window.

you were unpredictable. maverick was used to calm waves, but you? were a fucking tsunami that destroyed every bit of control he had.

he hated that you had that power. hated that you wouldn’t just be quiet and stay away from him like he had said millions of times before. you never listened.

which was proven tonight.

maverick had stated more than once to stay away from basketball games. his fucking outlet. but no, you just had to ruin that for him too. with you in his life, nothing wouldn’t be corrupted.

the game ended in a win, but maverick barley celebrated, and instead of going straight to the party CJ invited him to—he throw on a team hoodie followed behind you into the parking lot.

you could feel his grey eyes practically burning into the back of your skull, but you didn’t turn. the satisfaction you had of seeing him totally fuck up just because of your presence was enough to fill you with joy.

he could say all he wanted about you corrupting his life, but he was even worse. making snide comments in the hallway like an average bully, or even turning your childhood friend group against you, which consisted of him, you, london, and rose. now? they all practically ganged up against you at school. they were more popular, more influential—but you wouldn’t let them tear you down. especially not maverick stiles.

you got halfway down the hallway before maverick got pissed enough at your ignorance to his presence, pulling your arm to a stop. he always had refused to touch you—and on the times he did, it felt like he was trying to burn through your skin. or maybe you were burning through his. he immediately let go once you turned to him, as his grey eyes dug into yours. he was at least 6’4 now, causing him to practically tower over you and his brown hair was messed up from the game and from running his hands through it.

“you really don’t know how to fucking listen, do you, crimson.”

you hated that name. and it wasn’t the name itself, it was the way he said it with so much hate and disgust. it was like he was trying to force it out because of how much he hated to even talk to you.