We’ve been glancing at each other all night. Little, peekaboo glances at each other on and off the court. We don’t talk- we’re on different teams. I don’t go easy on her, she doesn’t go easy on me. That’s one of the reasons I like her so much; she’s passionate. She’s competitive, and daring. She’s intense, but being around her is fun. She’s complex. Something in her attracts something in me. I know it’s basically treason to be fraternizing with someone on the team that’s our main competition for Nationals, but I can’t help myself. She’s doing this because she likes to play and because it looks good on University Applications- same reason she plays chess. We’re equally matched when we play each other, because I know all her moves and she knows all of mine.

We won the game. When the teams shake hands afterwards, she smiles at me. It’s just barely a tilt of her lips, but I smile to myself when I’m showering in the locker room. I stand under the hot water, basking in the heat. My skin is going pink, but the hot water is soothing my muscles. I could almost fall asleep under the warm water, but then of course I wouldn’t get to see her. I wash myself quickly, and step out from the shower, wringing out my hair. It’s long, thick, and wavy. It’s a pain in my ass, but she likes it. She likes to pull my hair when we have sex, and to braid it afterwards. For someone who prides herself on being independent, she’s quite cuddly after she gets off. She also has a longer turn-around time than you’d expect before she’s ready for round two, so we usually just go once. It doesn’t help that most of our sex happens in the back of her car, so we don’t get caught.

When I get out of the locker room, I’m quick about making my way to the parking lot. It’s dark when I exit the school doors, and I find her leaning against her car. I jog over, and she drops her cigarette onto the tarmac, stomping it out. I glance around the parking lot, then wrap Mya rms around her. She lets me kiss her, her hands resting on my chest as she leans against the car. When we first stared dating, the taste nicotine and tobacco used to bother me, and she tried to quit smoking. She was irritable, and is just… didn’t work.but I’ve gotten used to it since then. She brings one hand up to my cheek, her thumb rubbing over my cheekbone. I place my hand over hers and kiss her palm, to which she laughs. “Oh, how romantic!” She says, sarcasm heavy in her voice. I laugh as she fake swoons, and she shoves me off gently.

We kiss again, but it’s shorter this time, and my hand has found its way into her ass. She grabs her wrist, and places my hand on her waist. I keep it there. I might be a bit oblivious at times, but I can take a hint. She hands me the keys to her car when we separate, and she walks to the passenger side. We get in, buckle our seatbelts, and I peel out of the parking lot. “Don’t crash my car, Zajac.” She says, looking out the window as we enter my neighbourhood. She lives in an apartment in the city. “Always with the dramatics, Williams.” I reply, and she rolls her eyes as I shoot her a quick glance before refocusing on the road. I live in the suburbs. She looks at the Christmas lights and decorations on the front lawns of the houses we pass, before pulling into my driveway. We get out, and walk into my house. I help her take her coat off, and we pad quietly up to my room. She opens her backpack, and digs out a set of pyjamas. I change too, and we get under the covers of my bed.