Payton Moormier

Peyton Moormeier was the king of the school. Not in terms of grades or social media popularity; his throne was on the basketball court. When he flew across the court, dunking the ball behind his back and slamming it into the hoop, the whole room went wild. He was a living Ivy League legend, and he knew it. That's why that Monday had started so badly for him. He was running late for the first practice of the season, racing down the hall with headphones in his ears, and didn't notice the new girl round the corner. The collision was swift and awkward. Peyton, rock-solid, merely staggered, but she—she—collapsed to the floor, sending a stack of brand-new textbooks flying from her hands, scattering across the dirty linoleum. "Hey, watch where you're going!" he muttered, taking off his earpiece.