Static

~Focused, I'm focused~

"Focus next time... or I might kiss you in front of everyone."

And then he was gone.

Jogging back to his team like nothing happened. Like he hadn't just shattered every coherent thought in my skull.

I stood there, frozen, heart wrecked, lungs trembling.

From the bench, Gwen doubled over with laughter. "YOU'RE SO SCREWED."

And she wasn't wrong.

Because I'd never wanted to win so badly in my life, and I wasn't sure if it was for the game...

Or for him.

The locker room smelled worse after class, sweat, cheap deodorant, and something unmistakably teenage and vile, like damp socks left in the sun too long. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, struggling against the low hum, like they were trying to escape the room too.

I peeled off the PE shirt, grimacing as it stuck to my back. The fabric clung like a second skin, soaked through. My skin felt raw from the drills and my mind buzzed with the aftermath of running drills against Robin, trying to ignore the damn smirk that seemed to follow me through every step. I just wanted a cold shower, some time alone, and a five-hour nap to forget the heat still crawling under my skin.

Instead? I got him.

Robin.

Again.

I heard him before I saw him, low chuckle, the unmistakable sound of a locker slamming shut, and that confidence that dripped off him like sweat. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, as if the floor knew exactly when he was walking. The atmosphere shifted, and the entire room seemed to bend around him like he was some kind of gravitational force.

I turned fast, my fingers fumbling to shove the drenched PE shirt into my bag as quickly as possible. I focused on the locker in front of me, my pulse thundering in my ears. I counted the dents, stared at the scratched-up metal, anything to pretend I wasn't hyper-aware of how he was getting closer.

"Look at you," his voice drew closer, low, smooth, and undeniably teasing. "All flushed. You run hot, amor?"

I rolled my eyes without turning around. "Maybe I just ran circles around your ego. That takes effort."

His laugh echoed in the room, low and rich. I could practically feel it vibrating in my chest. It made my skin prickle in a way I wasn't sure I liked. "Sassy. I like it."

I swallowed, willing the heat creeping up my neck to go away. "Too bad I don't care."

"Liar."

I turned around then, too fast, a little too eager to prove him wrong.

And there he was.

Robin was standing a little too close, he'd moved in with that same, effortless arrogance. One hand braced on the locker next to mine, leaning in, just slightly. His other arm was already lifting his gym shirt off in one slow pull, dragging it up his body. I caught a flash of his stomach, toned, muscles defined beneath the tanned skin, a dusting of freckles across his abs, and a faint scar near his ribs. My stomach did this weird flip, like I'd been kicked by something invisible. I forced myself to look away immediately.

Too late. He caught it.

"See something you like?" he teased, voice dark and playful. That same awful smirk on his face... gosh how I just wanted to wipe it off his face.

"I saw nothing," I snapped, trying to sound confident, but my voice cracked, betraying me.

He grinned, God, that grin, like I'd handed him the win on a silver platter. "Sure. That's why your face is doing the tomato thing again."

I glanced away, feeling the tell-tale heat rise to my cheeks. "It's the lighting," I muttered, still not looking at him. "You're just, standing in the way."

"Oh? You want me to move?"

I froze. He didn't move.

And then it hit me, he wasn't just standing in my way, he was taking up space, physically and emotionally, in a way that made it hard to breathe, hard to think. It was like he was testing me, seeing how far he could push before I snapped.

I bit the inside of my cheek, grabbed my towel, and yanked it out of my bag with more force than necessary, my fingers trembling. As I turned, my shoulder bumped his arm. Bare skin on bare skin.

And it felt like fire.

I flinched instantly, stepping back, but Robin didn't flinch. He didn't even move away. Instead, he leaned in closer, the air between us crackling like it was on the verge of igniting.

"I like it when you get all twitchy," he murmured, his voice dropping low, like it wasn't meant for anyone else in the room. "Makes me wonder what you'd be like if I really tried."

I blinked, completely disoriented. My mouth opened, but no words came out. The tension in the air felt thick enough to cut with a knife. I had no idea if I should be angry, embarrassed, or something else entirely.

"Tried what, exactly?" I finally managed, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out trembling. God, my brain was turning to mush.

Robin tilted his head, the smirk still present, like he was savouring every second of it. His eyes flicked to my lips, just for a fraction of a second, enough for me to feel the weight of his gaze. It sent a jolt straight through me, and I had to look away before I did something stupid, like lean in or,

"You sure you want to know?" he asked, voice slow, like he was savouring the moment.

I took a step back, biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to hurt. "You're full of yourself."

"Maybe." His voice dropped lower, darker. "But you keep looking."

I opened my mouth, desperate to come up with a snappy comeback, something to take control of this. But nothing came. My brain was just gone, my chest tight, heart thudding in my ears.

Robin took one step back, finally, a bit of space between us.

He towel-dried the back of his neck, then reached into his locker like everything was normal, like he hadn't just sent my entire sense of self into a tailspin. He grabbed his stuff, not looking at me anymore, and with one last glance, he muttered, "See you next class, amor."

I stayed frozen, my heart hammering in my chest. I could barely breathe.

"Try not to miss me too much," he called over his shoulder, voice light and teasing, but it still sent a wave of heat crashing through me.

He was gone before I could say a word.

I leaned against the locker, staring at my reflection in the warped metal. My hands were shaking as I grabbed my hoodie, tugging it over my head. I still felt the heat of his proximity lingering on my skin, the feeling of his eyes, the echo of his voice curling in my mind.

God help me.

I was so screwed.

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