"S-Sure… g-go on…" Coach Finstock stammered, still reeling from Scott's saves.
Jackson smirked to himself, crossing his arms.
If I didn't score, there's no way he—
Asher shot forward in a sudden burst, weaving left and right in a dizzying zig-zag. His eyes were calm, but his movements—sharp, deliberate—made him look like he'd been born holding a lacrosse stick.
Scott grinned behind the helmet.
Trying to confuse me, huh? Not gonna work.
Asher flicked his wrist—whoosh!—the ball flew from the net. Scott snapped his net into place, trying to intercept it.
But then—
The ball didn't leave Asher's stick.
Instead, with a twist, he caught it back mid-motion, the fake so clean it looked like magic.
Scott blinked, shifting his stance just as Asher launched again.
Another fake. The stick twisted, the ball still under his control.
Scott's arms jerked one way, then the other, trying to keep up. His body couldn't move that fast, not after steadying for two blocks in a row.
And that's when Asher released for real.
The ball streaked past, slamming into the net.
Goal.
The crowd went dead silent.
Coach Finstock's jaw dropped, the whistle slipping uselessly from his fingers. His eyes looked like they might pop out of his head.
Jackson stood frozen, grip white-knuckled around his stick.
What the hell…?
Scott, still kneeling by the goal, let out a breathless laugh. Instead of sulking, he raised his head with a wide grin. "Good throw, Asher!"
"Ah—!" Asher's face turned pink, startled by the compliment. He glanced aside, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks… you've gotten better too, I see…" he murmured, almost shyly.
He wasn't used to it. Compliments. Genuine words of acknowledgment. For years, he'd been the punchline—the fat nerd, the awkward loner. Even the so-called friends he had only stuck around to copy his homework.
Now? He wasn't sure what to do with the attention.
Up in the stands, Lydia leaned toward Allison with a smug little tilt of her chin. "See, Allison? I told you. He might be handsome, but he's too shy."
...
The locker room echoed with the noise of teammates laughing, showering, and shouting across aisles. Asher kept his head down, slipping behind a row of lockers at the far end, where no one would bother looking. He tugged his jersey over his head, sweat-damp fabric sticking to his skin.
The shirt dropped, and in the dim fluorescent light, his body looked like something carved from marble. Lean, hard muscle rippled with each movement, his abs cut deep like a statue from Olympus. If anyone had to guess, they'd swear his body fat was under 10%.
For a second, he just breathed, bare chest rising and falling. Alone, unseen. That's how he wanted it.
But then footsteps approached.
Danny Mahealani — lacrosse player, tech genius, and Jackson's best friend — turned the corner. His words caught in his throat, his mouth falling open.
"You…" Danny muttered, eyes wide. He wasn't just surprised. He looked… captivated.
Danny had seen plenty of guys shirtless. But this… this was different. Otherworldly.
Asher froze like a deer in headlights. Panic surged in his chest. Before Danny could say another word, he snatched his clean shirt and yanked it over his head, hiding everything again.
Without a glance back, he grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the locker room. His pulse hammered. Even now — even with his body changed — he still felt like the fat kid everyone used to laugh at. He didn't want anyone looking at him.
…
The halls were quieter now, students trickling out toward the parking lot. Asher adjusted his strap, ready to disappear home, when he noticed a commotion up ahead.
A group of guys had circled someone near the lockers.
His stomach tightened. He knew that girl.
Erica Reyes.
She was pale, trembling, her back against the wall. Her books lay scattered on the floor. Erica had always been sickly, fragile — epilepsy had made her an easy target. The kind of target the predators at school loved to tear apart.
She was also Asher's only real friend. When no one else would talk to him, she did. When everyone mocked her, he stayed. They'd clung to each other in the shadows of Beacon Hills.
"C'mon, Reyes," one of the guys sneered, waving his phone. "Should I pull up that video? Y'know… the one where you were flushed in a toilet? Wanna relive that moment?"
Erica's breath hitched, her eyes darting between them, panicked.
"S-Sorry, guys…" a voice cut in. A bit hesitant. "…T-That's kinda m-messed up to say."
The group turned.
Asher stood there, backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Who are you?" one of them muttered.
Before he could answer, a girl in the group peeled herself away and sauntered up to him. Blond hair, heavy eyeliner, chewing gum with lazy defiance. She pressed her palm flat against his chest, tilting her chin up at him.
"You're new, right?" she said, biting her lip. "Oh gosh... why is someone like you wasting time for her when you could have me... all night..." Her eyes flicked over him, shameless.
"Hey, Madison!" one of the guys snapped, his voice cracking with anger.
She didn't move her hand. "What? I'm just saying."
The boy who had taunted Erica stormed forward, fists clenched. "You son of a bitch! Stay the hell away from my girlfriend!"
Before Asher could react, the punch came.
He froze. His body locked up, his mind flashing with old memories — being shoved into lockers, nearly drowned in the school pool, his belly slapped to the rhythm of cruel laughter like a drum. He'd endured all of it. And the fear was still there, heavy in his chest.
He closed his eyes. Waiting for the pain.
But then—
Something sparked inside him. A heat, a pulse, something primal.
His head tilted at the last second, the fist whistling past his cheek.
I'm not the same Asher as before…
His fist shot forward, awkward, untrained — but solid. It sank into the guy's stomach. The boy doubled over, gasping.
Another stepped in, fury on his face. He swung a kick. It connected, square into Asher's abs, knocking him back a step. Pain flared — but only the dull kind. The muscle held.
He steadied himself, eyes narrowing. His heart still raced with fear… but now, there was something else too.
For the first time in his life… he wasn't just taking it.
To be continued...
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