bennett x dylan

I: Fire Meets Ice

Bennett G. hates two things — losing, and Dylan I.

Unfortunately, both had happened to him within the span of five minutes.

Rain pelted down the turf as the final whistle blew, signaling yet another win for the East Division. Dylan—cocky, golden-haired, insufferable Dylan—flashed that smirk Bennett had memorized all too well. Not that he'd admit that to anyone, least of all himself.

"Better luck next time, G.," Dylan called out as he jogged past, his jersey clinging to his sweat-slicked body. "If you even show up next time."

Bennett clenched his jaw so hard he felt it in his ears. "Maybe if you didn't need the ref's help to win, you wouldn't talk so much."

Dylan paused, glanced back. His smirk didn't falter, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, curious. "Aw, Benny. Are you mad because I beat you, or because you can't stop thinking about me after?"

Bennett walked off before he'd say something he'd regret. Or worse—something honest.