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Whistle Blown
Last Updated:
2025-09-07 07:31:37
Latest chapter
Crossing the line Behind Closed Doors
Ava’s POV The echo of my father’s whistle still rang in my ears long after we left the gym. Even back in my dorm room, the shrill sound replayed, cutting through everything. I tried to read, to scribble in my notebook, even to drown it out with music, but my head wouldn’t quiet. Ethan’s face haunted me. The way his eyes had burned when we were standing so close, the almost-touch, the almost-kiss. And then the way all of it had been snuffed out the moment my dad’s voice shattered the air. I kept telling myself I should be angry—at Ethan for walking away without a word, at my dad for humiliating him in front of me and the team, at myself for letting it get that far in the first place. But beneath all that anger was something else. A pull I couldn’t shake. When my phone buzzed on the desk, I jumped. The screen lit with a name that made my pulse stumble. Ethan. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. He never texted me. Not first. Not like this. Can we talk? I stared at the words, my th
Crossing the line Breaking Point (Again)
Ava’s POV The gym smelled like sweat and resin, the kind of sharp tang that clung to your skin even after you showered. The bleachers were mostly empty now—practice had ended an hour ago—but I lingered under the pretense of notes. My pen scratched nonsense across the page. I wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all myself. I was waiting for him. Ethan. He was the last one off the court, as always, dragging his bag across the polished floor, shoulders hunched under the weight of something heavier than just practice. His towel hung loose around his neck, damp with effort. He looked tired—bone-deep tired—but he still carried that untouchable presence, like the gym bent around him. And I was furious with him. For shutting me out. For pretending that night outside his apartment never happened. For acting like I didn’t exist when I could still feel the heat of his gaze on me across the room. “Cole,” I called, louder than I meant to. My voice echoed in the cavernous space. He froze mid-st
Crossing the line The Distance Between Us
Ethan’s POV The whistle cut through the air like a blade. “Cole!” Coach Reynolds’s voice boomed, snapping every head in the gym toward me. My legs felt like lead as I jogged over, towel hanging around my neck. I kept my face blank, jaw tight, even though my pulse hammered in my ears. The players shifted uneasily, waiting for the blow to land. “You’re distracted,” Coach said, his tone sharp enough to sting. “Your head’s not in the game. I don’t care what’s pulling you off, but it ends now. You want to play for me, you focus. Or you can sit your ass on the bench.” A ripple of murmurs moved through the team. My grip tightened on the towel until the fabric twisted. For a second, I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that I had it under control. But the truth was written all over me, and we both knew it. So I forced out the only words that wouldn’t make it worse. “Yes, Coach.” The whistle shrieked again, signaling drills to resume. I ran back onto the court, every muscle co
Crossing the line Whistle Blown
Ava’s POV I wasn’t supposed to be there. Coach—my father—hadn’t officially approved sideline access yet, but Maya pulled strings, and suddenly I had a prime seat on the bleachers with my notebook balanced on my knees. The gym smelled like sweat and polish, the kind of air that stuck to your lungs. Players darted up and down the court, sneakers squeaking, the ball smacking hard against the rim. But my focus kept sliding to one person. Ethan. Number twenty-three moved like the court belonged to him, sharp and certain. Every drive, every pass, every pivot felt charged. He should’ve been unstoppable. And yet—I saw it. The half-second delay. The glance that cut toward me when he thought no one noticed. And I wasn’t the only one who saw. The whistle cut through the air like a blade. “Cole!” My father’s voice boomed, snapping the whole team to attention. Ethan jogged over, towel around his neck, his face unreadable. The players shifted uneasily. I lowered my head, pretending to scr
Crossing the line Playing With Fire
Ethan’s POV The gym was the one place I could always breathe. Or at least, it used to be. The smell of rubber and varnished hardwood, the squeak of sneakers, the echo of the ball hitting the rim—this was supposed to be my sanctuary. My space. But today, even here, I couldn’t shake her. Ava. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face under that lamppost last night, tilted up toward me, her eyes bright in the glow. For one second, I’d wanted to lean in. One second, I’d forgotten every reason I had to keep my distance. Then my phone buzzed. Tyler’s name flashing across the screen. Reality slamming back into me. I couldn’t afford distractions. Not when people depended on me. Not when Coach was breathing down my neck, not when scouts were watching. And yet—here I was, standing on the court, bouncing the ball mindlessly, and all I could think about was the way her laugh had hit me like a body check. Clean, sharp, unexpected. I hadn’t heard myself laugh like that in months, maybe yea
Crossing the line Close Quarters
Ava’s POVWhen Maya announced the new media initiative at the next editorial meeting, I almost pretended to be sick just to escape. Group projects were bad enough; group projects with athletes were worse. They always ended with someone else doing the work while the “face” of the piece posed for the photo op. Still, nothing could’ve prepared me for the way her next words landed like a wrecking ball. “We’ll be pairing sports staff with athletes for a week-long feature series,” she said briskly. “Profiles that go deeper than stats. The human side. Ava, you’ll be working with Ethan Cole.” The room tilted. My stomach flipped. Across the table, one of the layout editors smirked, probably already imagining the drama. “Maya,” I started, my voice higher than usual, “maybe that’s not—” She cut me off with a raised brow. “You’re our strongest writer, Ava. And Cole’s the biggest story on campus. It makes sense.” It made sense the way walking into a fire made sense if you wanted to bur
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