Falling For The Campus Heartbreaker.

TEN

Chapter 10

Justin’s POV

To anyone watching from the outside, it probably looked like Annabel was chasing after me—flirting, visiting every day, bringing me my favorite snacks, talking about basketball like she’d been born courtside. She made it look easy. Smooth. Almost like she knew exactly what she was doing.

But from where I sat? It wasn’t just her pursuing me. It was me letting her. No—hoping she would. And yeah, I noticed every little thing she did. The way her fingers would “accidentally” brush against mine when she passed something over. The way she leaned in a little closer each day, laughing more, making those eyes that made my chest tighten.

They were cute tricks. Flirty moves. I’d read enough situations to recognize them. But the thing was… I didn’t mind. In fact, I waited for them. Looked forward to them. Every visit. Every smile. Every fake casual question about my old games, my favorite shoes, or locker room music playlists.

I was supposed to be the cool one. The guy everyone chased. But around Annabel, I was the one falling hard and fast.

At first, I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I’d never really had anything serious. My so-called “dating history” was nothing more than gossip and rumors. There was just one girl I ever technically dated—my childhood friend. And even that was only because our families basically arranged it. She liked me and begged me to try. Everyone else thought it made sense. I went along with it, but I never liked her like that. I couldn’t even pretend. I realized it a long time ago, real feelings couldn’t be faked. They couldn’t be forced. And what I felt now, when I was with Annabel? It wasn’t forced.

If anything, it scared the hell out of me because it felt realer than anything ever had.

At first, I thought maybe she was just playing around. Perhaps she liked the idea of me, the image. But as the days went on, I could see she genuinely cared. She remembered what I liked—paid attention to how I felt—stayed when she didn’t have to.

And that awkward flirting? It was endearing. She’d mess up a line from some book she probably stayed up all night reading, or she’d try to play cool and end up blushing more than I. But she kept trying.

And I kept hoping. So I gave in, a little more each day. When she leaned closer, I didn’t move away. When she touched my arm, I let her linger. When she brought me food or drinks, I acted surprised—but inside, I was grinning like an i***t. I cooperated with her “plan,” even if she didn’t know it. But it couldn’t go on like this forever.

I knew I couldn’t keep pretending like I didn’t feel anything. The more I got to know her—the real her—the more I felt like I needed her to know.

I wanted her to see the version of me that no one else knew. Not the player. Not the athlete. Just… Justin. A guy who barely knew what he was doing when it came to love, but knew without a doubt that he wanted her.

So, I made a decision. After the NBA selection game… I was going to tell her. All of it. Not just that, I liked her. But that I was in love with her. That I thought about her when I couldn’t sleep. That her smile knocked the air out of my lungs. Her presence turned a hospital room into a place I wanted to be.

The NBA selection game was important—huge even. Scouts would be there. Coaches. Agents. It was the kind of game that could change the rest of my life. But weirdly, it wasn’t the part I was most nervous about. I was more anxious about what came after.

What would she say? Would she believe me? Would she laugh? Or… would she smile that small, honest smile she always gave when something meant a lot? God, I hoped it’d be that.

Because one thing was clear now: I didn’t want to keep playing games. I didn’t want to keep pretending I didn’t care more than I was letting on. I was done hiding. And after that game—win or lose—I would lay everything on the line. Annabel deserved that.

Annabel’s POV

If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I’d end up watching the basketball star player, Justin, play in one of the biggest games of his life—with my heart practically pounding louder than the fans in the bleachers—I wouldn’t have believed them.

And yet, there I was, clutching the edge of my seat like my entire soul depended on his every move.

He was back. Fully recovered. Sharp, fast, focused. He moved on the court like watching a well-composed symphony—intense, deliberate, and mesmerizing. Every pass, every jump, every shot was met with roaring approval. The crowd was energetic, screaming his name like he was already in the NBA.

But even with all the noise, my world narrowed in on just him.

Justin.

The guy who used to intimidate me with nothing more than his silence. The guy I thought was out of reach—too cool, too distant, too wrapped up in his perfect world to notice someone like me.

Now, I couldn’t stop noticing everything about him. The way he smiled when his shot hit the net. The fire in his eyes when he stole the ball. The quiet confidence in his posture every time he turned to his teammates.

And maybe it was because I’d been there through the rougher parts—the hospital, the doubt, the slow recovery—but something in me clicked tonight. I wasn’t just impressed by his game.

I was, in a way, falling for him.

It hit me like a quiet truth, sinking into my chest and stealing my breath before I could react. Somewhere between wrapping his bandages and learning his favorite snacks, I had stopped “pretending” to get close and actually got close to him. Getting to know him better and opening up to him had done something to me. We had gotten closer than I ever thought we would.

And now? There was no turning back.

Tonight was the night of the big game. He has tried to recover faster for this game, with endless training and practice, all for this moment.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game, and Justin had done it. Not just played well… he’d owned the court. The final score was more than enough to seal his selection. He was going pro. The stadium erupted, his teammates mobbed him, and everyone chanted his name.

Pride swelled in my chest. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was more than happy for him. Seeing him smile so brightly, I couldn't hold back mine.

Later that evening, I was back in my dorm, still floating from the excitement, when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Justin.

~ You coming to the party tonight? I want to thank you properly.~

I stared at the screen, my stomach flipping. A party. With him. It seemed like the campus was going to throw a party for Justin's joining the NBA team.

I texted back quickly, heart in my throat.

~ Yeah, I’ll be there ~

But even as I typed it, I couldn’t help wondering. Was this really just a thank-you?

Something about how he worded it… the way he looked at me after the game when our eyes met through the chaos… it felt like something more. And God help me, I hoped it was.

I stood in front of my closet, hands on my hips, silently waging war with the clothes hanging inside. Nothing looked right. Everything felt too casual, too forced, or just… not tonight enough.

My fingers brushed over a soft, off-white dress tucked between some forgotten sweaters. It was short, simple, and off-the-shoulder, with just the right balance of elegance and charm. I’d bought it months ago and never had a reason to wear it.

Until now.

I slipped it on and glanced at the mirror, my breath catching just a little. It fit perfectly, hugging my waist and falling just above the knee. The fabric was light and airy, and paired with a subtle pair of nude heels, I looked. Nervous. Definitely nervous. I turned to the side, then the other, tugging at the hem unnecessarily. This wasn’t just a party. This was his party.

And something in the air tonight made my stomach twist with anticipation. After curling my hair and letting it fall in soft waves past my shoulders, I added a touch of gloss to my lips, took a shaky breath, and stared at my reflection.

“You’ve got this,” I whispered to myself.

I wasn’t sure exactly what “this” was yet, but I was ready to find out.

Then, heart fluttering in my chest like a drumline, I grabbed my small purse and headed out the door—toward the party, toward Justin, and possibly… toward something I hadn’t dared to dream about until now.

The campus was buzzing with celebration that night. Music thumped from the student center, lights flashed, and people spilled out into the quad, dressed up and glowing. It was a full-blown celebration for the guy who just made history on campus.

I found Justin near the center of it all, surrounded by friends, teammates, fans, and even some faculty. He stood taller than ever, not just physically, but with that calm, collected energy he always had. But when his eyes found mine through the crowd, everything around us melted into background noise.

He smiled, that rare, soft one that was just for me.