Chapter 3 Distractions are Dangerous

DENZEL'S POV

Rule #9: Don't confuse attention with affection.

It's easy to mistake being seen for being valued. Especially when you've spent years trying to be invisible for survival.

After the tournament, everything blurred.

I should've been thrilled. Beating Isidro wasn't just a personal win. It meant points for the finals, a leg up on the scholarship, and bragging rights for Holy Cross.

Instead, I found myself combing through replays of the match like I missed something.

Not the game. The moment after.

Basti's voice. The way he said, "Nice game." Like it wasn't just small talk.

Ugh. No. I shut my laptop.

Rule #10: Don't replay conversations with boys. You'll start hearing things that weren't there.

The next day, the campus buzzed with aftermath energy. Someone had posted clips from the tournament online. The view count spiked by the hour.

Rheiza leaned over her phone. "You're trending in our batch GC."

"That's not real trending. That's school trending."

"Same difference. You roasted Isidro in public. People are calling it 'The Ramos Reversal.'"

I groaned. "People need new hobbies."

"You're a hobby now."

"I want a refund."

Hannah joined us at the library table, dramatically slamming a juice box onto the surface. "Okay, spill. What did Basti say after the match?"

"Nothing worth spilling."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did he flirt?"

"If saying 'Nice game' counts as flirting, we have a low bar."

"Damsel, he looked at you like you checkmated his soul."

I shook my head. "You guys are making this into something it isn't. And it's Denzel, not damsel."

They exchanged a look.

I focused on my notes. The sooner I secured that scholarship, the sooner I could stop worrying about boys with soft voices and smarter eyes than they should have.

--

Lunch was loud. Cafeteria tables full. My tray barely held together-one cup of soup, a mountain of rice, and a hardboiled egg pretending to be protein.

Luke, the blonde one, appeared out of nowhere and plopped down across from me.

"Hi."

I blinked. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet," he said with a grin that could sell shampoo.

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you always interrupt strangers mid-meal?"

"Only the impressive ones. You crushed my sister, Bia."

Sister? They didn't bear any resemblance at all.

"Are you here on behalf of her ego? To collect reparations?"

He laughed. "No. I'm here because I'm curious. Basti said you were interesting. He never says that about anyone."

Something sharp twisted in my gut.

"Interesting," I echoed. "Noted."

He extended a hand. "Luke Rodriguez. Friendly neighborhood volleyball player."

I ignored it. "Denzel Ramos. Busy eating."

"Cool. You free after class?"

"To do what, exactly?"

"Dunno. Walk. Talk. Maybe teach me chess."

I stared at him. "Is this a bet?"

"What? No!"

"Because this smells like a dare your team made. 'Flirt with the girl who destroyed Isidro.'"

He looked wounded. Dramatically so. "I don't need dares to talk to smart girls. I just like meeting people who scare other people."

I tilted my head. "And you don't scare easily?"

"Only when I see my grades."

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Then he winked.

Rule #11: Never trust boys who wink. Especially in daylight.

-

BASTI'S POV

"So she ghosted you?" Nate asked, lounging on the gym bleachers.

"She didn't ghost me," Luke replied. "We weren't even talking."

Luke tossed a volleyball in the air and caught it. "I tried. She stonewalled me. With sarcasm. It was kind of hot."

I exhaled through my nose.

The more I thought about her, the more I realized I couldn't read her. Which made me want to.

It wasn't about attraction. Not fully. It was the way she carried herself. Like she owed no one anything. Like she'd seen too much, and now she played her cards close to her chest.

She didn't play for the crowd. She played to win. And she did.

I remembered the exact move. The look in her eyes. Cold. Calculated. Almost beautiful.

Luke tossed the ball again. "I think I'm gonna keep trying."

"Do what you want," I muttered.

But for some reason, the idea of him getting her to laugh first unsettled me.

-

DENZEL'S POV

I stayed late after class to practice with the team. Our coach was out, so the room felt emptier. Less pressure, more space to breathe.

Rheiza adjusted the pieces. "Want to do a blindfold round?"

"Sure."

"You think he'll come back?"

"Who?"

"Basti."

I shrugged. "Why would he?"

"Because he's curious. And guys like that don't chase unless they want something."

"I'm not a prize."

"Didn't say you were. But you're rare."

The word sat with me.

Rare.

Was that what made them look? Or was it the same curiosity people had when they poked at something sharp, just to see if it cut?

-

I walked home alone. The streetlights flickered. Tricycles zipped past. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it.

I didn't want attention. I wanted clarity.

But Rule #12: The moment you crave clarity, the world speaks in riddles.

And that night, the riddle had a name.

Basti.