Chapter 7 : Stray Bullet

Two days later, the Regional Final began.

The atmosphere in the gym was heavy. You could feel the pressure in the air as both schools cheered loudly, eager to see who would advance to the Sectional Championship.

I watched Tyson closely. He kept rubbing his hands together—a habit he only showed when he was trying to calm his nerves. He looked very tense. On the other side of the court, the opponents looked completely different. Sean appeared calm and confident as he stood next to a tall, handsome player with sharp features—Alphonse. It was no surprise that many of the girls in the crowd were staring at Alphonse. However, Jessica was the exception. She looked pale and stressed, and I caught her glancing at me nervously several times, as if she were hiding something.

The buzzer sounded, and the game began.

The first quarter was a disaster for us. It felt less like a game and more like a battle we were losing. Tyson, who was usually our strongest player, struggled on both offense and defense because he was matched up against Alphonse. I finally understood why Alphonse was called the "Ace." He was incredibly skilled; he dunked right over Tyson and scored three-pointers with ease. Meanwhile, Sean played as the Point Guard, controlling the pace of the game like a general commanding an army. By the end of the first quarter, we were behind by a significant amount.

Second Quarter. Our coach made a drastic change. He moved Tyson to the Point Guard position. It seemed risky to have a big player running the offense, but it worked. Tyson’s calm decision-making helped stabilize the team. On defense, his size made it difficult for Sean to pass, leading to several stolen balls. We managed to reduce their lead, and the crowd began to cheer wildly. By halftime, we were back in the game.

"That was intense!" Jones yelled over the noise, rubbing his head. "I understand the hype now. Sean and Alphonse are truly legit!"

"Sean played the entire first half," Alvin noted, looking at the scoreboard. "They will have to rest him in the third quarter. That is our chance to catch up."

"Tyson played the whole half too," I pointed out. "If he sits on the bench, Kelly has to come in. Kelly isn't as strong on defense as Tyson."

"We still have Blake," Alvin argued. "If Alphonse sits on the bench too, Blake can score. We have a chance."

"Let's hope so," I said. "Tyson has great stamina. He can probably return halfway through the third quarter."

Third Quarter. The star players sat out. Sean, Alphonse, and Tyson all went to the bench to rest. It became a battle between the reserve players. Blake stepped up for us, carrying the offense and bringing the score gap down to single digits. However, we just couldn't break through enough to take the lead.

Fourth Quarter. The starters returned, and things fell apart.

Our coach put Tyson back at Point Guard to help set up shots for Blake. But the other team adjusted their strategy. They moved Sean to a small forward position to attack the rim, and put Alphonse at Power Forward. Their offense was overwhelming. We couldn't stop them.

The deciding moment came with two minutes left. Alphonse caught a high pass, jumped over our center, and slammed a powerful dunk through the hoop. It was a devastating blow, like headshot towards our team. You could see the spirit leave our team instantly.

The final buzzer sounded. We lost by double digits.

Tyson collapsed onto the bench, hiding his face in a towel. His dream of reaching the Elite Eight in his final year of high school was gone. Alvin, Jones, and I walked down the bleachers, trying to ignore the loud celebrations of the other school. It hurt to see our best friend, usually the strongest one in our group, looking so broken.

**

Sean made his way through the crowd toward us. He didn't gloat; he just tapped Tyson on the shoulder.

"Chin up, Tyson," Sean said. "You played well. You still have a chance next year. I’ll be rooting for you, since this is my last run in high school."

Tyson looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. "Thanks, man. But this is my last year too. I promised my mom I’d focus on my studies next year. No more ball."

Sean nodded solemnly. "Then we’ll meet again in college, alright? Don’t let this drown you. You’ve got potential, and you’ve got a good crew backing you up."

"Thanks, Sean. Congrats."

Sean smiled, gave me a respectful nod, and headed back to celebrate. My eyes followed him, but they landed on something else. Jessica was standing near the scorer’s table, talking to Alphonse. They looked comfortable. Too comfortable.

Then she saw me. The second our eyes met, she broke off the conversation and walked quickly away from the court. My stomach tightened. She was definitely hiding something, and the French guy was right in the middle of it.

We regrouped at the café to decompress. Jessica wasn't there. To keep Tyson from spiraling, we banned all basketball talk. Jones took over, acting the clown to keep everyone laughing.

"Where’s Jessica, Daeron?" Amy asked, looking around.

"I don’t know," I said, stirring my drink. "With her brother, maybe."

"You didn’t text her?"

"Nope."

Amy gave me a weird look. "Huh. I thought you two were dating. You sound like you don't even care where she is."

"That's because we’re not dating, Amy."

I shut up after that. While the others laughed, I stewed in my own paranoia. Jessica finally showed up twenty minutes later, sliding into the booth next to me like nothing happened. I bit my tongue, forcing a smile so I wouldn't ruin the night for Tyson.

Hours later, the group broke up. I walked to the parking lot alone, keys in hand.

"Daeron!"

I turned to see Jessica jogging to catch up. "Why were you so distant today?"

"Nothing," I lied. "Just tired. I want to go home."

I got into the driver’s seat. Before I could start the engine, the passenger door opened. Jessica slid in and slammed the door shut.

"You need a ride?" I asked.

"No. I want to talk." Her voice was dead serious.

"About what?"

"About why you're acting like a jerk."

I gripped the steering wheel. "Fine. You want to talk? Tell me what you're hiding."

Her face went blank. "Hiding what?"

"Don’t play dumb, Jess. You act weird every time Alphonse’s name comes up. And today? I saw you with him. You ran away the second you saw me looking."

"W-what?" A nervous laugh escaped her lips. "Are you jealous?"

"I’m not jealous. I just hate liars." I stared straight ahead. "Look, if you like him, just say it. Or if you two are already together—"

I didn't finish the sentence. Jessica scrambled over the center console, straddling my lap. She smashed her lips against mine, kissing me with a desperate, aggressive heat. The smell of chocolate and vanilla filled the small space, clouding my brain.

I hesitated for a second, then my resolve shattered. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

She pulled back, breathless, staring into my eyes. "Did that answer your question, Tiger?"

Before I could speak, she buried her face in my neck, kissing and biting my skin. My anger evaporated, replaced instantly by adrenaline and lust. I grabbed her ass, my hands wandering, exploring the curves, her firm breast, I could feel her nipple already hard.

"Touch me, Tiger," she whispered, her voice husky against my ear. I lifted her skirt and my hand exploring to her crotch, her panties already soaking wet.

She captured my lips again, her hips grinding down on my lap in a slow, rhythmic friction to my cock that drove me crazy.

"You’re so hard, Tiger" she murmured against my mouth.

She kept moving, the windows of the car fogging up from the heat, until she let out a sharp, trembling gasp. She collapsed against my chest, breathing hard.

"Fuck," I exhaled, my heart hammering against my ribs, my pants becoming wet and warm from her juices "That was hot, Jess."

She slid back to the passenger seat and started unzipping my pants. "Let me take care of you now."

She pulled my dick out of my boxer and grabbed it tightly with her small hand. "Wow, you’re packing down there, Tiger," she giggled.

“You like it?”

She giggled and started licking my cock shaft, her green eyes looking up at me “Fuck, Jess. You’re amazing”

Suddenly, a loud ringtone shattered the silence.

We both froze. The mood evaporated instantly. I looked down at her phone—the screen was lit up with the name Sean.

"Sorry, Tiger," she whispered, breathless. "I have to take this."

She slid back into the passenger seat, smoothing her hair, and answered. "Hey... yeah, I'm just leaving... okay."

I sat there, gripping the steering wheel, my heart still pounding and my mind racing. The transition from her mouth on me to her talking to her brother was dizzying.

She hung up and looked at me with big, apologetic eyes. "Sorry, Tiger. Sean is looking for me. I have to get home right now."

"Oh, fuck," I groaned, throwing my head back against the headrest. "You’re seriously blue-balling me right now?"

"I’ll make it up to you later," she said softly, reaching for the door handle. "I promise."

"Heh. Fine," I muttered, awkwardly adjusting my pants which were now painfully tight. "Don't let me keep you."

She stopped, leaned back in, and planted one last, lingering kiss on my lips. "Hey. I promise, really. I’ll make it worth the wait, Tiger."

She winked, slipped out of the car, and jogged away across the parking lot.

Fuck. What just happened? One minute I was in heaven, the next I was alone in a parking lot. I put the car in gear and drove home, frustrated, aching, and in desperate need of a cold shower.

**

After that day, Jessica became a permanent fixture in my life. She started joining our workout sessions, and wherever I went, she was there. But the real shift happened in the shadows. Whenever we found a window of privacy—a parked car, an empty hallway, a quiet room—we got... intimate. We stopped short of actual sex, keeping it to heavy petting, grinding and oral sex. It was a secret thrill, doing it almost everywhere we could without getting caught.

The boys definitely suspected something. You can't hide that kind of chemistry forever. But in public, we played it cool, maintaining a silent pact to keep our "activities" off the record.

While my personal life heated up, my physical life was getting beaten down. The April Karate Tournament was approaching, and the Dojo training had shifted into overdrive. The sparring was brutal. I was walking around with a collection of aches and pains that I tried to hide.

"Shit, man. What kind of training are you doing?" Tyson asked, staring at a fresh cut near my temple while we chill at classroom.

"Just regular training," I said, shrugging it off.

"Regular? What the fuck? You got a cut on your forehead, brah! Last week you had that nasty purple bruise on your ribs! Are you sure it’s from the Dojo? Not from... roughhousing with Jessica??" Tyson smirked.

"Heyy," a voice chimed in from the doorway. "Why are you mentioning my name, Big Guy?"

"Oh shit!" Tyson jumped. "You always pop up from nowhere, girl!"

Jessica ignored him, her eyes locking onto my face. Her expression dropped. "Oh my God!! Daeron! You got injured again?!"

"It's nothing, Cheeto. Just a small cut from a spar."

"What kind of sparring partner is that? A grizzly bear? You got new bruises every single day!"

The room went silent.

"Don’t exaggerate, Cheeto. It’s normal," I said quickly, trying to cut her off.

"Hold on, hold on," Alvin interrupted, stepping forward. "How did you know Daeron has bruises every day, Jess?"

"Using my eyes, Al!!" She rolled her eyes. "Can't you see his face?"

"Yeah, we see the face," Alvin said, squinting like a detective. "And we knew about the ribs last week because he winced when he lifted a weight. But we didn't know about the other days. Daeron hides his injuries. So... where are the others?"

Jessica flushed. "He... he has lots of bruises on his body, Al! You said you’re his best friend! You should be more attentive to your friend's body!"

"Well," Tyson crossed his arms, "Daeron rarely takes his shirt and pants off in front of us. So unless you've got X-ray vision... how did you know?"

Jessica froze. The trap had snapped shut.

"Well... I... uhhh... Daeron told me!" She pointed an accusing finger at me. "He complains a lot!"

Alvin and Tyson looked at me. I looked at the floor.

"Well, I gotta go now! Bye Al, Ty! See you later... Tiger." She spun around and power-walked away before she could dig the hole any deeper.

The silence stretched for a long, awkward moment.

"Well," Tyson said, leaning against the lockers. "I think it’s story time, Daeron."

"Look, umm..." I scratched the back of my head. "You guys never ask about my bruises. Jessica asks. So I tell her. Detailed descriptions. That's all."

"But Jessica said she saw them, bro," Alvin countered. "She said we should be 'attentive to your body.'"

"....."

"....."

"...."

"Oh my God, brah!!" Tyson threw his hands up. "At least just tell us you're fooling around with her! We're not idiots!"

"Damn, bro!" Alvin grinned, punching my arm. "You're scoring, huh?"

I didn't confirm or deny it, but the red face gave me away. Luckily, they dropped it after that, respecting the "Bro Code" enough not to ask for details. I went back to focusing on my training until the Tournament day finally came.