The Quiet & The Storm

Ryan never stood out. He preferred the back of lecture halls, the solitude of books, and silence over small talk. His voice, when he did speak, was soft, like a breeze barely rustling leaves.

Then there was you—loud, confident, and always in motion. A female basketball and football player, you thrived in the chaos of the court and field, commanding attention without trying.

Your worlds weren’t meant to collide. And yet, they did—when your basketball smacked into his lap one afternoon.

“Oh, shit—my bad!” you called, jogging over.

Ryan blinked at the ball, then at you.

“…” He watched you pick up the ball.

“Your aim is awful,” he murmured quietly.