At Lagonoy High School, the varsity teams were more than just players on a court—they were part of a growing weave of stories, glances, and quiet beginnings. Thea Domingo, a first-year tennis varsity player from Section Emerald, had long observed the slow-burning romances happening all around her. She noticed Levi and Rina, both fellow first years in Emerald and part of the badminton and tennis varsity respectively, and how their friendship seemed to shift into something warmer. She even caught wind of how Isaac slipped poems into Ella's notebooks and how Jessa, their badminton captain, had a junior who clearly adored her.
But Thea's own quiet crush was one she kept safely tucked behind her smile. Her eyes had long wandered to Enzo Villarica—a second-year tennis varsity player, sharp on the court and warm off of it. He was known not only for his smashes but for his casual friendship with upperclassmen like Jessa and Marco. Thea admired him from afar during practices and tournaments, content for a while to simply watch.
Except Enzo's attention, she knew, had once been lightly drawn to Rina—something she picked up from an offhand comment Marco once made after practice. Rina, however, had her hands full with Levi, and anyone with eyes could see the slow gravity forming between them.
So Thea waited. Not passively, not silently. She found little ways to exist in Enzo's orbit without shoving herself in. She'd offer water after practice, return a loose ball with a small smile, laugh at his jokes even if they weren't all that funny.
One weekend, during a mixed scrimmage among varsity members, Thea pulled off a flat serve ace against Marco, surprising even herself. The small gasp from the sidelines caught her attention—it was Enzo, who clapped, eyebrows raised with visible approval. She saw his smile, genuine and impressed. That was the first spark.
After that, he started noticing her more. He watched her footwork during drills, nodded at her improvements, and even asked once if she wanted to volley with him. Thea tried to keep her composure even as her heart stumbled.
"You're getting better every week," Enzo told her one afternoon. "I like how you read your opponent. Sharp eyes."
"Thanks," she replied, voice even. "I try to stay focused."
"You remind me of someone," he added.
She tilted her head. "Rina?"
He chuckled, a little caught. "Yeah. But different. You've got this quiet confidence. It's cool."
Thea tucked that compliment away like a medal. That afternoon, they rallied for over thirty minutes, pushing each other back and forth on the court. When they stopped, both sweating and breathless, Enzo tapped his racket against hers. "Same time next week?"
She nodded. "Sure. You better bring your A-game."
From then on, they rallied almost every other practice. Sometimes other teammates joined. Sometimes it was just the two of them. Thea didn't ask for more. She didn't need confessions or dramatics—just the shared rhythm of the court and how he lingered a little longer to talk with her after everyone else packed up.
It was Jessa who noticed first. One afternoon, while tying her shoes on the bench, she whispered, "He's always got that soft smile when he looks at you, you know."
Thea blinked. "You think so?"
"I know so," Jessa grinned. "Just keep serving those aces, girl."
The provincial tournament drew near, and their training intensified. One late afternoon, as the golden hour dipped into the school grounds, Enzo offered to walk Thea home after practice. It wasn't far—just down the street past the church—but it felt like a thousand steps packed with possibilities.
They walked quietly at first, the sound of rackets and laughter fading behind them. Thea clutched her water bottle like a lifeline.
"Hey," Enzo said, stopping beside the plaza. "You know… I used to think Rina was cute."
Thea turned, brows lifting.
"But it was a shallow crush," he went on. "I was looking, but not really seeing. Not like how I see you."
Thea swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "You see me?"
He chuckled. "Yeah. I notice how you always help clean up, how you stay late to help juniors even when you don't have to. How you serve with your whole chest. You're kinda amazing."
Her cheeks burned. "You're not bad yourself."
They both laughed.
"Can I keep watching you?" he asked.
She looked up, eyes meeting his. "Only if I get to watch you too."
And just like that, something gentle and certain settled between them. Not rushed, not forced. Just like tennis—it was all about timing, rhythm, and reading each other's moves.
And in the heart of Lagonoy, as varsity teams trained under sunsets and dreams, Thea and Enzo found a rally they never wanted to end.