when i fell for the wrong player

CHAPTER 1

*(Zania's POV)*

If someone told me four years ago that a basketball player with a stupid dimpled smile would be the reason my heart would be doing back flips and firework explosions... I would've laughed and gone back to spiking volleyballs like nothing mattered.

But then came *him.*

Safeer Smith.

Tall. Athletic. Arrogant on the court. Soft-spoken off of it. He was the type of boy who walked into a room and instantly knew all eyes were on him—and still acted like he didn't care. Girls whispered. Guys daped him up. Teachers sighed when he strolled into class two minutes late with that *I'm good though* grin. And I?

 I convinced myself I was immune to him. Back then, I was the new girl entering sophomore year of high school— puffball too high, kneepads shoved in my backpack, and dreams of being captain of the volleyball team. I didn't have time for distractions. Especially not ones with brown eyes that made me feel like he could see straight through me. The first time I saw him was in the gym after school. I'd stayed late to practice my serves. Volleyball on the left court, basketball on the right. My coach had already left, but I wanted to perfect my jump serve before trials. 

Ball in hand. Bounce. Toss. Jump—

"Yo, watch it!" My serve flew off course and nearly hit one of the basketball players. And that's when he turned. Safeer.

 He held the back of his head tight, holding like he was ready to bleed out. His twists were messy and shiny, sweat glistening on his neck, jersey clinging to him in a way that made it hard not to stare. Glaring at me with an annoyed look and a painful face. He grabbed the ball from his side of the court like you just knew someone was upset. "Oh, you're new," he said, voice smooth and upset in a way that made my heartbeat annoyingly loud.

 I rolled my eyes. "And you're in my way." His eyebrows lifted like no one had ever talked back to him before. I snatched the ball from his hands and went back to my side of the net. But when I tossed the ball for my next serve, I could feel his gaze on me. Annoying. I hit the serve clean, and it slammed perfectly into the court. I heard a faint whistle behind me. When I glanced back, Safeer stood there watching, a sweat towel draped over his shoulder. "Nice," he nodded. "That was... kinda fire.

 "I muttered, "Thanks," and hoped he didn't catch the way my cheeks suddenly felt warm. 

He did. 

"I scoffed and ignored him, but he walked away with that irritatingly satisfied grin—like he already knew he'd left an impression. He had. I didn't want him to, but he did. And I hated knowing that this basketball player had just become the first person to ever make my heart skip a beat... right before he became the one who would eventually break it completely.