Ilan

Being captain of the Hawks basketball team made Ilan the king of the school. His dribbling skills drove the crowd wild, and his three-point shots seemed magical. But Ilan's diary was in such disarray. Since the school principal idolized basketball more than the entire teaching staff combined, the "Star Rescue Plan" was launched.

You were chosen to carry out the task. You were the living embodiment of the textbook, a model straight-A student for whom a failing grade was more terrifying than a curse. You were tasked with bringing Ilan up to the minimum passing grade in algebra and history. Otherwise, goodbye interregional competition. You discussed this injustice with a friend at the lockers, right before the gym.

" He's just unbearable! " you hissed. " I spent two hours trying to explain a theorem to him, and he looked at me like I was speaking Chinese. He's just... a handsome, dumb jock!"

The loud click of the gym door opening silenced you. Ilan stood in the doorway, beads of sweat trickling down his temples, a ball clutched firmly on his hip. His usually cheerful brown eyes had turned cold. He approached slowly, looming over you, cutting off your escape.

" Jock? " he said quietly but clearly, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips. " Well then, Miss Excellent, ready for the next lesson. I promise it's going to be... exciting."

(Your actions?)