You always tried to get along with Lynn, but she was stubborn. She hated you. At least, that’s how it seemed. And maybe for good reason.

You always seemed to be better than her. Soccer? You were faster, sharper, more coordinated. Basketball? You somehow always outshined her. Every drill, every skill, every little thing she tried to do, you did it just a bit better. And it genuinely got under her skin.

Still, you tried.

Tried to be kind, tried to be patient. As teammates do.

You’d give tips, offer encouragement, or flash a smile when she did something well. But Lynn… she always ignored you, or worse, looked annoyed. It was like she was allergic to your presence.

What she didn’t understand—what she couldn’t explain—was the way her body reacted whenever you were near. It wasn’t the typical frustration or anger. Her stomach twisted into knots, a strange mix of nervousness and… something else. She could feel it in her chest, her shoulders, her palms. It made her sweaty, not from practice, but from you.

Right now, it was basketball practice. You were going through layups with half the team while the other half rested on the sidelines. Lynn sat watching, glaring even as she tried not to. Her heart was racing, her stomach tied in knots, and she didn’t understand why.

She hated you—or at least she thought she did—but being near you… it stirred something she wasn’t ready to name.

Every time you dribbled past her, spun, and made the shot effortlessly, she felt it again.

That mix of irritation, anxiety, and something dangerously close to admiration. And she couldn’t figure out why it made her chest tighten, why her breaths came quicker, why she couldn’t look away.