I sat cross-legged on the grass near the football field, nursing my iced tea and trying not to grin like an idiot.

Johan was playing.

Hair messy. Shirt slightly damp with sweat. Jaw clenched in focus. The usual “I’m too hot and too serious for this world” look on full display.

God, he was annoying.

Annoying and gorgeous.

I sipped my drink slowly, not even pretending to hide the way I was watching him.

Every movement was deliberate. Sharp. Like he was pissed about something. His tackles had a little extra weight. His passes, a little more force.

Was he angry?

Maybe at the game.

Or maybe…

My phone buzzed.

Easter: “Where are you!”

I texted back quickly.
Me: “Field. Front row. Johan looks hot lol.”

Just as I hit send, Johan looked up.

Directly at me.

His eyes lingered.

I grinned and waved both hands like a hyper puppy.

Then, just to be obnoxious, I blew him a flying kiss.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t even flinch.

But his jaw ticked.

Just a little.

And then he missed the ball.

I gasped.

He never missed.

A second later, he recovered, muttered something to a teammate, and kept playing like nothing happened.

I bit back a laugh.

Iceberg cracked.

I went back to sipping my tea and swinging my legs idly. A shadow fell across me.

P’Earth.

“Here,” he said, dropping a thick stack of notes beside me.

“Umm—thank you so much, phi!” I beamed, genuinely grateful.

He laughed and reached down to pinch my cheeks. “Make sure you don’t lose these again.”

I pouted, holding my face. “Rude.”

He ruffled my hair and sat beside me on the grass, stretching his long legs out.

“Whatcha watching?” he asked casually.

“Football,” I said, resting my chin on my hand. “Staring at the same player for the last twenty minutes.”

P’Earth followed my gaze. “Ah. P’Johan.”

I nodded dreamily.

P’Earth leaned closer, amused. “You like him that much?”

“umm.” I replied.

Earth chuckled.

I knew Johan was watching.

Because the next second?

He slammed into someone unnecessarily hard.

“Woah,” Earth said. “Bit aggressive.”

I turned back to the field.

Yup.

There it was.

The glare.

He was looking right at us.

Not at me.

At P’Earth.

And it was not friendly.

“Is it just me,” I asked, sipping my drink, “or does P’Johan look like he wants to murder someone?”

Earth snorted. “He’s always like that.”

“No,” I said thoughtfully, “this feels… personal.”

And then—just to test my theory—I laughed at something Earth said.

Loudly.

Like, overly sweet and giggly.

And Johan?

He kicked the ball so hard it flew out of bounds.

Straight past our heads.

I flinched.

Earth whistled. “Okay. That was aimed.”

I turned my head to look at Johan.

He was walking toward the ball now. Slowly. Calmly.

But his eyes met mine again.

Sharp.

Unamused.

Possessive.

I smiled innocently, holding up my drink in a little toast.

He rolled his eyes and looked away.

But not before I saw it.

That flicker of something in his expression.

Tight.

Hungry.

Dangerous.

Jealous.

I held back a laugh.

Iceberg was melting.

And it was so fun to watch.

✿✿✿

Johan POV

I slammed the ball harder than necessary.

The field was loud, my teammates yelling, the sun unforgiving — but all I could focus on was the stupid little scene playing out on the sidelines.

Little brat.

Sitting there like some sunshine mascot in that ridiculous oversized hoodie and the stupidly sweet smile on his face.

And him.

That guy.

Earth.

With his hands casually ruffling short brat's hair like he owned it. Sitting too damn close. Laughing like they were sharing a private fucking joke.

I missed a pass.

Fucking hell.

What was wrong with me?

I never missed.

“Focus, bro!” someone yelled.

I nodded, but I wasn’t focused. Not on the game.

Because when I turned my head again, North was laughing. Loud. Throwing his head back and grinning at Earth like he was his favorite person on the damn planet.

Something inside me snapped.

I kicked the ball. Hard. Too hard.

It veered off the field like a bullet — just barely missing Earth’s shoulder.

Damn.

Shame.

Would’ve been a hell of a shot.

I jogged over to grab the ball, but my eyes found his.

He was watching me again.

Smiling.

Holding up his cup in a teasing little cheers.

What the hell was he doing?

Was he flirting?

What the fuck?

I snatched the ball off the ground and forced myself to walk back calmly. Breathe. Just breathe.

It wasn’t a big deal.

So what if some guy gave him notes?

So what if he ruffled his hair?

So what if that brat looked... happy?

I clenched my jaw.

That guy was too familiar. Too casual. Touching him like it was nothing. Like he had the right.

My fists tightened around the ball.

I didn’t get it.

Why the hell did it piss me off?

I didn’t care.

I didn’t.

I didn’t care about little brat. Not like that.

He was a headache. A brat. A clingy, chaotic mess who never knew when to shut up.

He wasn’t even my type.

Right?

So why the hell did my chest feel like it was being crushed?

Why was I this close to walking off the field and yanking him away by the wrist?

I shoved the ball back into play, ignoring the looks from my teammates.

“Bro, you good?”

No.

I was not good.

I didn’t understand it. I didn’t like this feeling. This tight, raw thing in my gut.

But I was sure of one thing:

I fucking hated Earth.