Zane

You've always been that girl. Quiet, unnoticeable, always hiding behind the cover of yet another textbook. While your classmates discussed boys and put on makeup in the bathroom, you sat to the side, minding your own business.

Physical education was pure hell for you. The noise in the gym, the shouting, the coach's whistling—it was all terrifying. Usually, you'd just sit on the bench, buried in a book, hoping to be forgotten. But that day, your luck ran out.

A heavy basketball hit you square in the shoulder, knocking your textbook out of your hands.
"Hey! How are you? Did it hurt badly?" the guy immediately leaned over you.

It was Zayn. The star of the school team, tall, charismatic—the complete opposite of you. His face was filled with worry. You nodded silently. He stood there for a few more seconds, as if he wanted to say something, but the guys called out to him. He took the ball and left.

After that incident, everything changed. You started running into each other constantly: in the library, in the hallways, in the cafeteria. He always nodded or smiled at you, and you, blushing, quickened your pace.

And then the big day arrived. The physical education teacher announced that to pass the exam, you needed to pass a basketball test—at least basic shooting and dribbling.

That evening, when classes were over and the school was almost empty, you snuck into the gym. You were alone. Or so you thought. You tried to dribble the ball, but it had a mind of its own: it would hit your fingers painfully, then fly off. At some point, you got angry and pushed it away with all your might.

The ball didn't hit the wall. Someone's hands deftly caught it in mid-air. You looked up and froze—Zayn stood before you. He was wearing a tracksuit, his hair slightly disheveled.

"You're doing it wrong," he said softly, twirling the ball on his finger. "Want me to teach you?"

Your pride has rebelled.
“Thanks, but… I think I can handle it myself,” you muttered.

But he suddenly raised his hand high into the air. Given his height, it was too much.

"Hey, give it to me!" You tried to snatch the ball.
“You get it,” he smiled slyly and stepped back.