Not My Type

''Fine if that's how this is''

He looked relaxed. Focused. Normal.

Except he still didn't look at Charlotte.

Not once.

Charlotte stood by the fence with Savannah and Ryder.

Ryder yelled, "TOM! PASS TO ME!"

Tom didn't even glance at him.

Savannah: "He's ignoring everyone today."

Charlotte: "No. Just me."

Savannah: "Which is weird."

Ryder: "Suspicious."

Tyla: "Maybe he finally realized she's boring."

Charlotte blinked. "Okay."

Tyla's eye twitched.

Tom dribbled past two guys, spun, and made a clean shot.

His friends cheered.

Ryder yelled, "SHOW-OFF!"

Tom ignored him.

Charlotte watched quietly.

Not impressed. Not jealous. Just confused.

Savannah nudged her. "Go talk to him."

Charlotte: "No."

Savannah: "Why not."

Charlotte: "Because he's being weird."

Ryder: "He's being Tom."

Charlotte: "No. This is different."

Tyla leaned against the fence, arms crossed, smirking.

Her plan was working beautifully.

Tom was annoyed. Charlotte was confused. Everyone else was clueless.

She whispered to herself, "Perfect."

But then—

Tom glanced over.

Not at Charlotte.

At Tyla.

Just for a second.

His expression tightened.

Annoyed. Suspicious. Almost like he knew something was off.

Tyla's smile faltered.

Just a little.

Charlotte sighed, shoved her hands in her skirt pockets, and walked toward the court.

Savannah whispered, "Oh boy."

Ryder whispered, "Drama time."

Charlotte stopped at the edge of the court.

"Tom."

He didn't look at her.

He kept dribbling.

Charlotte tried again. "Tom."

He bounced the ball harder.

Savannah winced. "Oof."

Ryder whispered, "He's mad."

Charlotte crossed her arms. "Are you ignoring me."

Tom finally stopped.

He didn't look angry.

Just tired.

And annoyed.

"Why did you text me all that stuff last night."

Charlotte blinked. "What stuff."

Tom scoffed. "Don't play dumb."

Charlotte frowned. "I didn't text you anything."

Tom stared at her.

Charlotte stared back.

Savannah's jaw dropped.

Ryder whispered, "Oh no."

Tyla froze.

Her stomach dropped.

Because this?

This was the moment everything could fall apart.

the basketball court was loud — sneakers squeaking, boys yelling, the ball slamming against the pavement. Tom was in the middle of it, playing aggressively, barely missing a shot.

Charlotte stood at the edge of the court with Savannah and Ryder, arms crossed, watching him.

Savannah whispered, "He's still ignoring you."

Charlotte: "I can see that."

Ryder: "He's acting like you stole his dog."

Charlotte: "I didn't steal anything."

Tyla, leaning against the fence in her corset top, smirked. "Maybe he finally realized you're not that important."

Charlotte blinked. "Okay."

Tyla's eye twitched.

Charlotte stepped closer to the court.

"Tom."

He didn't look.

She tried again, louder. "Tom."

Nothing.

He dribbled past two guys, spun, and shot the ball. It bounced off the rim, rolled toward Charlotte's feet.

She picked it up.

"Tom," she said, holding the ball.

He still didn't look at her.

He just held out his hand, palm open, waiting for the ball like she was invisible.

Charlotte frowned but tossed it back.

Tom caught it without a word.

Then — without warning — he turned and threw it again, harder this time.

Straight toward her.

It hit her shoulder with a dull thud.

Not enough to hurt. But enough to shock her.

Savannah gasped. "WHAT was that."

Ryder: "Bro— what is his problem."

Charlotte froze for a second.

Tom didn't apologize. Didn't check on her. Didn't even glance her way.

He just kept playing.

Like she wasn't there.

Like she didn't matter.

Charlotte's jaw tightened.

She didn't yell. She didn't argue. She didn't chase him.

She just turned around and walked away.

Savannah followed immediately. "Charlotte— wait."

Ryder jogged after them. "He's being a jerk."

Charlotte didn't look back.

"Whatever," she said quietly. "If he wants to act like that, fine."

But her steps were stiff. Her shoulders tense. Her face unreadable.

Behind them, Tyla watched with a slow, satisfied smile.

Her plan was working.