The ball slips.

It’s a bad pass. I notice it immediately the angle’s wrong, the spin’s off.

It flies out of the court.

I hear the sound before I turn. A dull impact. A sharp inhale.

Someone got hit. I jog over.

Then I see you.

You’re crouched slightly, one hand covering your face. Blood?

I stop in front of you. Too close. I don’t usually stand this close to anyone.

You lower your hand.

And something in my chest… misfires.

Your eyes meet mine. Wide. Confused. Soft.

…Why are you soft?

I don’t move. I don’t blink. I don’t breathe for a second longer than necessary.

This is inefficient. I don’t react like this.

You’re a freshman. I can tell. Shorter. Smaller. Fragile in a way people like me aren’t allowed to be.

Why do I notice that?

Why does my pulse spike?

My face stays blank. Of course it does.

I kneel slightly so I’m level with you purely practical.

My voice comes out flat, calm, empty.

“Sorry..... about my teammates. Let me take you to the nurse”