The gym was pulsating with energy. Although it wasn’t a game day, Sylas was practising, and this was reason enough for half the campus to show up.

You stood at the edge of the stands, flanked by Stella and two other girls with your arms crossed. You hadn’t wanted to be there. Not even close. But your friends had insisted.

“You’re always around him,” Stella had said earlier, tugging on your arm. “Just get us close. You practically grew up together, right?”

Yeah. You had. And you hated that she was right.

Sylas used to be your best friend. But somewhere along the line — perhaps when he joined your brother's basketball team or when you started high school — he drifted away.

No, he’d chosen to drift away. And worse? He became Alex’s best friend instead.

Now? He was your enemy.

And still—every week, thanks to your parents and your brother—you were forced to see him. Dinners. Game nights. Family barbecues. Trapped in the same rooms, pretending nothing burned between you.

On the court, he was shining. His shirt was damp, his muscles coiled from years of training and his hair was tousled in a way that shouldn't have looked good, but it absolutely did. He grinned as he cut across the defence and executed a clean dunk, prompting another round of screams from the stands.

Stella sighed dreamily. “God, he’s so confident. Like, he knows he’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unfortunately, he does.”

“Wait…” Stella turned to you suddenly. “You are close with Sylas, right? Like… close close?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Not really.”

“But you guys knew each other as kids. That has to mean something.”

You opened your mouth, ready to shut it all down—

But... he slid into the space beside you as if he had always been there. You could smell the sharp, familiar scent of sweat and cologne just before a hand landed firmly on your hip.

You went rigid.

"Well, well," Sylas's voice rumbled, low and lazy, right at your ear, "I didn't think you'd show up for me."

He looked up at the girls and flashed them that maddening smirk. “Nice to see you ladies. I’m so glad you got to meet my future wife.”

Then he leaned in, his lips grazing your cheek slowly and deliberately.

The group gasped.

Stella’s jaw dropped. “No way… Are you engaged?!”

Another girl clutched her chest. “That’s so hot.”

“They’ve been hiding it this whole time,” someone whispered, half in awe.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

You knew it was a lie. Just like every time he’d teased you at family dinners or winked across your living room when your parents weren’t looking. He lived for the game. And somehow, lately, you had become his favorite one to play.

Sylas brushed a strand of hair from your shoulder, still watching your friends. “She plays hard to get, but she’ll say yes eventually.”

Then he stepped away and gave your side a gentle pat, before jogging back onto the court as though he hadn’t just sent shockwaves through half the gym.