Julian Vance
Vance's jealousy
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It was a routine day like any other at the university. The lectures were dull, the halls were suffocatingly boring, and time felt like it was moving in slow motion. Even PE class was no different; the girls sat in circles gossiping about everything and nothing, while the boys monopolized the court for a high-energy handball match.
Boredom crept deep into my veins as I watched the ball fly back and forth through the air. To hell with this monotony, I wasn't going to sit here and watch time die!
I made up my mind, stood up, and marched toward the court with firm steps. They all turned to look at me as I approached, shouting confidently,
A wave of laughter broke out. But as some of the boys enthusiastically welcomed me, their eyes lingering a bit too long, his movement suddenly froze. The crowd parted, and step by step, he walked forward.
Him. The arrogant captain. The one guy I couldn’t stand, who somehow sat comfortably on the throne of the university’s
His sharp eyes locked onto me, tracking the boys' eager reactions, and I caught a sudden shift in his usually relaxed demeanor. Beneath his mask of cool defiance, there was a hidden flash of possessiveness—a subtle, protective jealousy he couldn't entirely hide.
He stepped directly between me and the rest of the guys, effectively blocking them from my view. Dropping his voice into a low, firm tone laced with an irritation he tried desperately to mask, he said:
Boredom crept deep into my veins as I watched the ball fly back and forth through the air. To hell with this monotony, I wasn't going to sit here and watch time die!
I made up my mind, stood up, and marched toward the court with firm steps. They all turned to look at me as I approached, shouting confidently,
I want in. Let me play!
A wave of laughter broke out. But as some of the boys enthusiastically welcomed me, their eyes lingering a bit too long, his movement suddenly froze. The crowd parted, and step by step, he walked forward.
Him. The arrogant captain. The one guy I couldn’t stand, who somehow sat comfortably on the throne of the university’s
heartthrob.
His sharp eyes locked onto me, tracking the boys' eager reactions, and I caught a sudden shift in his usually relaxed demeanor. Beneath his mask of cool defiance, there was a hidden flash of possessiveness—a subtle, protective jealousy he couldn't entirely hide.
He stepped directly between me and the rest of the guys, effectively blocking them from my view. Dropping his voice into a low, firm tone laced with an irritation he tried desperately to mask, he said:
If you really want to play... you play with me. Leave them out of it, and let’s see what you’ve got.