[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
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Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despises. He's arr...
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I rapped lightly on the white door and pulled out my phone, ready to shoot a text while waiting. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few girls peeking out of their rooms or lingering in the hallway, trying to appear nonchalant despite all their gazes 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.
Predictably, it did.
H: I'm sorry, who is this again?
I looked down at the message that popped up on 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 recall you now.
Before I could type back, the door swung open, and I looked up. Both of my eyebrows shot up as I took in Skylar's attire.
"Sorry I took so long. I was in the shower."
"Should I wait outside while you get dressed?" I offered, making a point to keep my gaze above her neck.
"Don't be ridiculous. Come on in."
She adjusted the towel around her, reaching out to grab my arm and hauling me into her room, 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, feeling my phone in my right one as my fingers inched to see if Hannah had sent another text.
The 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 poster on the wall, pushing hard work and determination. The other side was a bit more chaotic, with some bright material tied to 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 she started to get dressed with me right there. I turned so that I couldn't see anything, pulling out my phone again to check if Hannah had said anything else. She hadn't.
"You play basketball?" I asked, trying to break the awkward silence.
"No, track. But I like basketball - grew up watching it with my dad before he passed away," she shared as she rummaged through her closet.
T: What are you doing right now?
"Oh?" I muttered, eyes still glued to my screen, "That's cool."
"And you? Do you like anything besides football?"
H: I'm studying in the library right now. Or trying to. Someone keeps interrupting me.
