[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE
She can't stand the school's golden boy, but when fate keeps throwing them together, their rivalry starts to look a lot like chemistry-and suddenly they're not playing the game they thought they were.
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Tristan
I knocked on the white door and pulled out my phone, shooting a quick text while I waited. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few girls peeking out of their dorm rooms or lingering in the hallway, trying to appear nonchalant or busy despite all their gazes being fixated on me. One girl blushed when our eyes met and I shot her a playful wink, knowing it would set off a chain reaction of giggles among them all.
It did.
H: I'm sorry, who is this again?
I looked back down at my screen and grinned, surprised by how much her sass pleased me.
T: The man of your dreams.
H: You mean my nightmares? I seem to vaguely recall you now.
Before I could reply, the door swung open, and I looked up. Both of my eyebrows shot up as I took in Skylar's attire.
"Don't mind the towel—I just had a shower." She stepped aside to make room for me to enter. "You're not scared of a little skin, are you?"
I was pretty sure dorms like this had communal bathrooms. And she looked... dry. Mostly. Her hair was still damp, but even that looked like it had been air-drying for a while.
"Should I wait outside while you get dressed?" I offered, making a point to keep my gaze above her neckline.
"Don't be ridiculous. Come on in."
She adjusted the towel around her, reaching out to grab my arm and pulling me into her room before swiftly closing the door behind us. I stood in the middle of her room, clearing my throat as I avoided looking directly at her. I slipped my hands into my pockets, and the feel of my phone had my fingers itching to see if Hannah had sent another text.
The dorm room was split into two halves. On my left, the desk was super organized, books stacked neatly. There were colorful notes stuck all over a corkboard above it, and just one motivational picture on the wall, pushing hard work and determination. The other side was a bit more chaotic, with some bright material wrapped around the metal frame of the bed. Posters of athletes and inspirational quotes were scattered all over the wall. One of them was a framed jersey with signatures all over it.
"What team?" I asked, pointing at the jersey.
"The Los Angeles Sparks. They're a female basketball team in the WNBA," she answered, walking over to her closet and opening the door.
I nodded, frowning when I heard the towel drop. She started to get dressed with me right there. Turning around so that I couldn't see anything, I pulled out my phone again to check if Hannah had said anything else. She hadn't.
"You play basketball?" I asked, trying to make polite conversation.
"Yeah. I grew up watching and playing it with my dad. He never got to see how far I've come, but I like to think he's proud of me. He, um... he passed away four years ago," she shared as she rummaged through her closet.
