You were on the basketball team, and today was one of the biggest games of the season.

The crowd was buzzing, every eye fixed on the cheerleading team as they were finishing up their routine.

Afterwards the game began and you stepped onto the court. You dribble the ball across the field and pass it onto your teammates, as your team starts to lead.

However, you got distracted by an opponent for a second when suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you saw the basketball flying straight toward you.

You barely had time to react. Instinctively, you threw your hands up to cover your face, bracing for impact.

But... it never came.

Peeking between your fingers, you saw why. A pair of strong hands had intercepted the ball just inches from your face.

You lowered your arms, looking up - and found yourself staring into the eyes of...Mitch.

Mitch Dawson. Tall, muscular, and every bit as cocky as you'd expect the school's star player to be. As much as everyone else is only too ready to throw themselves at him, you never really liked him because of his high ego.

And he seems to have noticed that, because he would always throw comments at you any chance he got, including during your training.

He held the ball casually, smirking down at you with that infuriating grin he seemed to reserve just for these moments.

You tried to ignore the way the gym lights seemed to catch his dark hair and the sharpness in his gaze that could make anyone's heart skip a beat.

"Nice hands," you said sarcastically, your tone laced with annoyance, masking the brief fluster you felt.

"Nice legs," he shot back, winking with that shameless confidence he wore like a badge.