Chapter Text
The gym is too loud.
Max hates it immediately.
The squeak of shoes against the floor, the echo of the announcer’s voice, the way everyone seems to care so much about something that feels so… stupid.
She leans against the wall near the bleachers, arms crossed, already planning her escape.
“I can’t believe I let you drag me here.”
Beside her, Dustin grins. “You didn’t let me. I begged. There’s a difference.”
Max rolls her eyes. “Same thing.”
But she doesn’t leave.
She could.
She should.
Instead, her eyes drift, just for a second, toward the court.
Lucas Sinclair is already there, warming up. Running drills. Focused in that way he gets when everything else fades out.
He looks different like this.
Sharper. Faster. Like he belongs here.
Max exhales, annoyed at herself.
It’s just basketball.
Lucas takes a shot.
Swish.
The crowd cheers like it’s already the winning point.
Max scoffs. “It’s literally warmups.”
Dustin nudges her. “You’re watching.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“…You so are.”
Max shoves him lightly, but she doesn’t argue again.
Because she is.
--
The game starts, and Max tries not to care.
She really does.
But Lucas moves like he’s chasing something.
Every time he gets the ball, the energy shifts. The crowd leans forward. The team trusts him. You can feel it.
And Max..
Max finds herself leaning forward too.
“Why are they guarding him so hard?” she mutters.
Dustin smirks. “Because he’s the best one on the court.”
Max huffs. “That’s… dramatic.”
Lucas drives past two defenders, pivots, shoots..
Score.
The gym explodes.
Max blinks.
“…Okay. That was kinda cool.”
Dustin grins. “Kinda?”
She doesn’t answer.
Because Lucas glances toward the bleachers.
And for half a second,
His eyes land on her.
Max freezes.
It’s quick. It means nothing.
Probably.
But something in his expression shifts.
Just a little.
And the next play?
He’s faster.
Sharper.
Better.
--
Halftime.
Max escapes outside, the cool air hitting her like a reset button.
“God, I forgot how intense that is,” she mutters, dropping onto the steps.
“You stayed.”
She looks up.
Lucas.
Still in his jersey, hair damp, breathing uneven from the game.
Max shrugs. “I was bored.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“…You played okay.”
Lucas laughs under his breath. “Okay?”
Max smirks, looking away. “Don’t get used to compliments.”
He steps closer, just a little.
“Funny,” he says, softer now. “I could’ve sworn I saw you actually paying attention.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Max rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile pulling at her mouth.
“You’re annoying.”
“You came,” he says.
It’s quieter now. Not teasing.
Just… real.
Max hesitates.
Then shrugs again, like it doesn’t matter.
“Dustin begged.”
Lucas nods slowly, like he knows that’s not the whole truth—but he doesn’t push.
“Stay for the second half,” he says.
Max raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
Lucas holds her gaze.
“Because I play better when you’re here.”
And oh.
That,
That hits harder than it should.
Max scoffs, looking away quickly. “That’s… not my problem.”
“Maybe not.”
He starts to turn back toward the gym.
“…But you’re still staying.”
Max watches him go.
Heart doing something stupid in her chest.
Annoying.
So annoying.
--
She tells herself she’s leaving.
She really does.
But when the buzzer sounds and the crowd roars again,
Max is already walking back inside.
--
Final minutes.
Close game.
Too close.
The gym is on its feet, noise crashing like waves.
Lucas has the ball.
Time ticking down.
Max grips the edge of the bleachers without realizing it.
“Come on,” she mutters.
Lucas moves.
Dodges.
Shoots..
The buzzer sounds.
The ball arcs,
Swish.
The gym explodes.
And Lucas..
Lucas doesn’t look at the crowd.
He looks at her.
From across the court.
Like he knew exactly where she’d be.
Max’s breath catches.
And for once
She doesn’t pretend she doesn’t care.
--
After the game, the crowd swarms the court.
Max hangs back, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed.
Lucas finds her anyway.
Of course he does.
“Stayed,” he says, a little breathless, a little proud.
Max shrugs. “It was… fine.”
“Fine,” he repeats, smiling.
She hesitates.
Then, quieter
“…You were good.”
Lucas’s smile softens.
“Yeah?”
Max nods once, looking anywhere but at him.
“Yeah.”
A beat.
Then Lucas steps a little closer.
“Next game’s Friday.”
Max groans. “Don’t push it.”
He laughs.
But he doesn’t look away.
And neither does she.