Chapter 2 The Girl Who Didn't Look Twice

• Charles Harrison's POV
• The crowd always screamed my name.
• Tonight was no different.
• "CHARLES! CHARLES! CHARLES!"
• The chants echoed through the arena as I dribbled the ball across the court.
• The game was already ours.
• I knew it.
• My teammates knew it.
• The opposing team definitely knew it.
• The scoreboard showed a comfortable lead, but Coach had drilled one thing into our heads since preseason.
• Never relax.
• Not until the final buzzer.
• I drove toward the basket, faked left, spun right, and elevated.
• The crowd rose before the ball even left my hand.
• Swish.
• Three points.
• The arena exploded.
• I jogged backward while my teammates celebrated.
• Paul Whitmore bumped my shoulder.
• "Twenty-seven points already."
• I shrugged.
• "Who's counting?"
• "You."
• "Fair."
• He laughed.
• The game continued, but my focus wasn't where it should have been.
• It hadn't been for the last fifteen minutes.
• And I hated that.
• Normally, when I stepped onto a court, the rest of the world disappeared.
• Basketball was simple.
• The ball.
• The rim.
• The game.
• Everything else faded into background noise.
• Tonight, however, something kept dragging my attention away.
• Or rather...
• Someone.
• A girl.
• A girl who wasn't even paying attention to me.
• Which was new.
• Very new.
• Every game, girls screamed my name.
• Every game, they fought for pictures.
• Every game, they tried getting my attention.
• Yet somehow the only person who had caught mine was the one sitting in the stands looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.
• I had noticed her almost immediately.
• Not because she was trying to stand out.
• Because she wasn't.
• She sat beside a loud brunette who practically bounced in her seat every time I touched the ball.
• The quiet twin was different.
• Calm.
• Reserved.
• Beautiful.
• And completely uninterested.
• The first time our eyes met, she looked surprised.
• The second time, she looked confused.
• The third time, she immediately looked away.
• That should have ended it.
• Instead, it only made me more curious.
• "Earth to Charles."
• Paul snapped his fingers in front of my face.
• I blinked.
• "What?"
• "You missed Coach calling your name."
• "Damn."
• "Thinking about the game?"
• "No."
• His grin widened.
• "Exactly."
• I groaned.
• Paul was the closest thing I had to a brother.
• Unfortunately, that also meant he knew when something was bothering me.
• Or distracting me.
• "Who is she?"
• I nearly dropped the water bottle in my hand.
• Paul laughed.
• "There is a she."
• "Shut up."
• "There is definitely a she."
• I shook my head.
• "We're in the middle of a game."
• "And yet you're staring into the crowd."
• "I wasn't staring."
• "You absolutely were."
• I glared at him.
• He grinned.
• "Dark hair?"
• I said nothing.
• "Pretty eyes?"
• Still nothing.
• "Good-looking?"
• I grabbed a towel and threw it at him.
• Paul burst out laughing.
• "That's a yes."
• The buzzer sounded before I could threaten him.
• Coach called us back onto the court.
• Thankfully.
• Otherwise, Paul would have spent the next twenty minutes interrogating me.
• The second half started fast.
• The opposing team came out aggressive.
• For a while, they even managed to cut our lead.
• The crowd grew tense.
• Coach grew louder.
• I grew annoyed.
• So I did what I always did when I got annoyed.
• I attacked.
• A steal.
• A fast break.
• A dunk.
• The crowd erupted.
• The momentum shifted immediately.
• A few minutes later, Paul hit a three-pointer.
• Then another.
• By the time the final buzzer sounded, we had secured a comfortable win.
• The arena exploded into celebration.
• Students poured toward the exits.
• Reporters appeared from nowhere.
• Photographers started taking pictures.
• And suddenly my favorite part of every game arrived.
• The part where I had to pretend I enjoyed media interviews.
• "Charles!"
• A reporter appeared in front of me.
• Microphone ready.
• Smile ready.
• Questions ready.
• I forced my own smile.
• "How does it feel to start the season with a win?"
• "Great."
• "What are your expectations for this year?"
• "Championship."
• "What makes this team special?"
• "My teammates."
• The usual answers.
• The usual questions.
• The usual performance.
• Ten minutes later, I finally escaped.
• Or so I thought.
• My manager intercepted me halfway to the locker room.
• That was never a good sign.
• Victor was twenty-eight, permanently stressed, and convinced my life existed solely to make his difficult.
• "You're trending."
• I frowned.
• "After a game? Shocking."
• He didn't laugh.
• Definitely not a good sign.
• "What happened?"
• Victor held up his phone.
• Social media flooded the screen.
• Most of it was normal.
• Highlights.
• Fan edits.
• Game reactions.
• Then I saw the problem.
• Again.
• Rumors.
• Speculation.
• Dating gossip.
• Random stories connecting me to different girls.
• I sighed.
• "People are bored."
• "People are obsessed."
• "Same thing."
• Victor pinched the bridge of his nose.
• "Our biggest sponsor isn't happy."
• That got my attention.
• Sponsors paid money.
• Lots of it.
• When sponsors weren't happy, everyone became nervous.
• "What do they want?"
• "A cleaner image."
• I laughed.
• "I play basketball."
• "You also make headlines."
• "I don't do anything."
• Victor gave me a look.
• "You punched a photographer last year."
• "He insulted my mother."
• "You climbed a stadium fence."
• "It was locked."
• "You raced a sports car."
• "I won."
• Victor stared at me.
• I smiled.
• He looked even more stressed.
• "We need fewer controversies."
• "Good luck."
• "I'm serious."
• "So am I."
• His expression darkened.
• "Just think about it."
• Then he walked away.
• Great.
• Now sponsors were involved.
• Exactly what I needed.
• I headed toward the tunnel leading out of the arena.
• The crowd had mostly cleared.
• Only a handful of students remained.
• Then I saw her again.
• The quiet girl.
• She was standing near the exit with her sister.
• The loud twin was talking excitedly.
• The quiet one looked exhausted.
• A smile tugged at my lips.
• For some reason, that felt more genuine than every scream I'd heard tonight.
• Before I could stop myself, I turned to one of the student volunteers nearby.
• "Who is she?"
• The volunteer blinked.
• "Who?"
• I nodded toward the twins.
• "The quiet one."
• He followed my gaze.
• Recognition flashed across his face.
• "Oh."
• My pulse quickened.
• "Well?"
• The volunteer smiled.
• "Juliet Morgan."
• Juliet.
• For some reason, the name fit perfectly.
• Then, before I could ask another question, she glanced over her shoulder.
• Our eyes met.
• Again.
• This time neither of us looked away immediately.
• And for the first time all night, winning the game wasn't the most interesting thing that had happened to me.
• I had just learned her name.
• Now I wanted to know everything else.