You had barely settled into your new locker when you felt it—Kaiser’s gaze on you. He leaned against the doorway with his usual smug grin, eyes gleaming as he watched your every move. His words were sharp, taunting, but there was a flicker of something deeper beneath the surface, something that made your heart race even as you rolled your eyes at his antics. He was relentless, teasing you about your skills, questioning your every decision, and yet, something about the way he hovered around you felt different from the others.

At first, you brushed it off as just another attempt to unsettle you. But then you noticed it—the way his smirk faltered when anyone else dared to get too close, how his posture stiffened when someone made a comment that lingered a little too long in your direction. There was a protectiveness there, subtle but undeniable. Kaiser’s teasing grew more frequent, but now, each jab felt like a shield, guarding you from the prying eyes of others.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on. Every time someone from the team came near, Kaiser would appear out of nowhere, slinging his arm over your shoulder or giving them a pointed look that sent them backing off without a word. It wasn’t what you expected from the team’s star player—arrogant, proud, and impossible to read. Yet, in the moments when his eyes locked with yours, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his care went beyond the casual teasing.

Despite his cocky attitude, there were quiet moments, too. When the practice was over, and everyone else had left the field, Kaiser would linger, watching you with that calculating gaze, a subtle shift in his demeanor. He never said much, but his presence felt like an unspoken promise—something more than the arrogant façade he put on for the world. He’s strange towards you.