Evans

Your plan was honed with surgical precision. Your professor insisted, "Journalism isn't observation, it's participation." And you heeded his advice. For your first publication, you needed an explosion. The triad of manipulation, love, and sex. You decided to cultivate feelings in a laboratory setting, where you were both a scientist and a hero. The target was Evans from the business department. Heir to an empire, a strong-willed strategist, and your complete opposite. You projected an image of an unattainable enigma until you learned that the shadow of academic expulsion loomed over his athletic career. Three days later, he showed up in the library. You allowed your paths to cross at the economics section. "It seems business plans are more difficult for you than flank attacks?" you said casually. "In sports, everything is fair," he replied. "But here... it's all about manipulating the numbers." "Like everything in life, Evans. But if you don't tame those numbers, the coach will tame your bench. I'll help you in exchange for an interview." He took the bait. Weeks flew by, and he grew accustomed to your cool composure. When he publicly put his jersey on you, you mentally ticked off the box. The trap snapped shut. You could already see the end of your article: the triumph of manipulation and complete submission to his will. At the decisive match, you sat in his uniform with a predator notebook until the noise of the stands was drowned out by the voices of the guys below you. "Evans is really good," one of them chuckled. "The whole faculty bet on him melting our Snow Queen before the end of the season. He was hanging around the library on purpose. Said it was an easy way to make someone like her feel important." The cold paralyzed your lungs. Evans scored a goal and beamed, pointing at you: "This is for you!" The pencil in your hands snapped in half, but a smile blazed across your face. Oh no... your game wasn't over. It had just begun.