"I don't know how to play basketball, teacher. I'd just make a fool of myself," Ross said, a deep frown creasing his face. They were in physical education class, where they usually practiced simple drills, but today was different.
The teacher had arranged for him to scrimmage against the university's varsity team—something he'd never expected.
He felt his nerves building as he glanced across the court at the team, who were casually dribbling and joking among themselves, exuding a relaxed confidence that made him feel even more out of place.
At six feet tall, Ross wasn't exactly short, and he'd sometimes been mistaken for an athlete because of his height. But these guys were something else; the varsity players averaged more than 6 foot tall, towering over him a bit with long limbs that seemed tailor-made for the game.
Despite his own lanky build, which still needed years of training and plenty of food to grow into real muscle, these players already looked strong and well-conditioned.
They were veterans, with years of experience playing in college tournaments. Their coordination and skill were immediately apparent, and Ross couldn't help but feel like a disinterested by comparison.
He simply didn't enjoy the game; the thought of scrambling and wrestling for possession of a ball felt absurd. To him, all the running, defense, and shooting seemed more like chaos than skill, and he couldn't understand why everyone was so eager to compete over something so trivial.
The intensity with which the players chased the ball felt silly, almost as if they were forgetting it was just a game. To Ross, the entire idea was more exhausting than exciting, and he found himself struggling to muster any enthusiasm for it.
Still, he couldn't deny the fact that basketball entertained millions of people around the world.
"Do I hear the rising star of this school complaining? Get up and get on the court. I want to see you play—everyone does!" the teacher bellowed, his voice echoing across the gym. He wore a smirk, though his gaze lingered on Ross with something close to irritation.
Truthfully, this teacher had other reasons for pushing Ross into the spotlight. Beneath his casual tone lay a spark of envy, a sentiment shared by many of the male staff at the school.
Ross, after all, had somehow managed to form a close friendship with the most admired woman on campus: teacher Natalie Kendall.
Natalie wasn't just another teacher; she was the epitome of grace, with a beauty that drew attention from everyone. Her smile, her charm, the way she carried herself—all of it made her the subject of admiration, and even desire, from both students and teachers alike.
Every man on campus, from faculty to staff, had tried their hand at getting to know her better, hoping for more than just polite conversation. Yet, each attempt ended the same way: a subtle but unmistakable rejection from Natalie.
She always managed to decline gracefully, never rude or cold, but clear enough that every hopeful was left without doubt.
What stung most was that, despite all these attempts, it was Ross—just a student—who seemed to have earned her genuine friendship.
They could often be seen chatting and laughing together, with an ease that made others speculate. To most of the teachers, it was unthinkable that a man could be "just friends" with a woman like Natalie.
They saw it as impossible, foolish even, to believe in such an innocent connection. So as Ross hesitated on the court, his teacher's encouragement was fueled less by support and more by a desire to knock the "lucky student" down a peg.
"Okay, fine. I guess it's hard being super popular," Ross muttered, shaking his head as he reluctantly made his way to the center of the court, exactly as the teacher wanted. His expression was one of mild resignation, but he could feel the eyes of the other players following him. The teacher quickly assigned him to a team, pairing him with some of the most seasoned players on the college varsity squad. These guys weren't just tall; they were built, experienced, and intimidating in their confidence. Most of them had been playing together for years, their chemistry on the court second nature by now, while rookies like Ross usually had to settle for warming the bench and watching from the sidelines.
As Ross took his position, one of his new "teammates" eyed him with a smirk, stepping up to him with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.
"Well, look who it is, boys. Ross freakin' Oakley," he sneered, loud enough for the others to hear. "This guy's got it all, doesn't he? Walking around with two gorgeous girls at his side every day. And, oh, I've heard the rumors about you and teacher Natalie Kendall. Come on, Oakley, share some secrets. Tell us how you get all the ladies flocking to you, and maybe—just maybe—we'll pass you the ball," he said, his tone laced with mock respect. Behind the grin, though, Ross could sense the barely concealed envy.
Without missing a beat, Ross shot him a smirk, meeting the guy's gaze with a cocky glint in his eye.
"I don't know," he replied with a shrug. "Maybe they just see a charming, promising young guy when they look at me. And, well, let's just say I know how to put my 'little brother' to good use," he added, finishing with a mischievous laugh that made a few of the other players chuckle.
The player let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with a wry grin. "You lucky bastard," he muttered, though the bitterness lingered.
"Enough with the chatter!" the teacher shouted, cutting through the banter and bringing everyone's attention back to the court. "Game's about to start! Let's see some hustle out there!"
A second later, the piercing sound of the whistle echoed through the gym, signaling the beginning of the practice match. The players sprang into action, their competitive energy immediately igniting as they dashed across the court.
***
Huge shoutout and thanks to ddecoen for the gifts!
You are awesome! Thank you! ^_^