THE QUARTERBACK NEXT DOOR

 (Lena's POV)

I have a theory about the universe…it hates me, there is absolutely nothing anyone wants to tell me that would make me think otherwise because there’s no other explanation for what happened tonight.

It started like any other Friday. Myself, a backpack full of takeout, a vague hope that my brain wouldn’t combust from teenage math homework, and a simple goal: just deliver food, collect the money given, and survive the weekend.

So simple and Doable.

Totally boring.

Then, of course, the universe intervened…I mean, as usual...urf!

The address? “Lakeside Court, Number 14.” I pictured a normal house. Maybe a fancy kitchen. Maybe someone who knew how to tip. What I did not expect was a miniature palace…you know, a small palace where you feel at home. Not kidding. The place looked like it had been copied and pasted straight out of an Integra influencer’s feed and then sprinkled with extra money. White stone walls, huge glass doors, the kind of pool that screams, yes, we swim here but only in money and touch of pride.

I parked my beat-up scooter…aka my mom’s old one that squeaks like a dying raccoon…and took a deep breath. “Deliver food. Don’t die. Don’t embarrass yourself,” I muttered under my breath. Good plan. Foolproof. Except, obviously, it wasn’t.

I opened the gate, and immediately, the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and a booming bass line hit me. Music. Loud music. Too loud music. My entire body wanted to run back to my car and pretend I’d never seen the address, but professionalism…or maybe sheer terror…kept me moving forward.

I carried the bag up to the sliding glass door. And that’s when I saw them.

A group of boys, maybe six of them or… I really suck at counting with my eyes. I do that with my finger but I dare not do that here. They are all impossibly tall, all wearing those “I was born to be a quarterback” smiles, clustered around a snooker table by the pool. The water reflected the dim string lights overhead, giving everything an otherworldly glow. And in the middle of it all …because of course there had to be a centerpiece…stood Derek Hayes.

Yes, you heard right. Derek Hayes. The one whose name made teenage girls across the city swoon. The one who could probably bench press my entire life savings without breaking a sweat. The one whose reputation as a bad boy and heartbreaker was legendary. And he was looking at me.

Not the “oh, I see her, she’s here” kind of looking. The studying-me-like-I’m-a-problem-you-don’t-understand kind of looking. My stomach did a full somersault.

I tried to look nonchalant. I failed.

“Uh… delivery?” I said, holding up the bag like a peace offering. My voice squeaked. I think I may have imagined it…but I didn't. Sometimes I sound like a lost baby goat when I am nervous.

The boys paused mid-snooker shots, as if the sound of my voice had shattered the delicate illusion of their perfect evening.

Hmmm…

Derek didn’t move. He just tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a laugh or maybe he was calculating how to humiliate me.

I didn’t stick around to find out. I set the bag on the table, trying to ignore the curious eyes, and hoped gravity would swallow me whole.

Of course, nothing happens gracefully when Derek Hayes is involved. One of the other guys, he is tall, blonde, overly enthusiastic, decided this was the perfect moment to lean on the pool table. The cue slipped, the ball bounced, and…yes…you guessed it, almost hit me square in the shin.

“Careful!” I shouted, trying to maintain dignity while hopping backward on one foot. Cue ball bounced harmlessly into the corner pocket. Smooth. Very professional. The boys laughed, some more at me than the mishap. Derek didn’t laugh, though. He just watched. Quiet. Intent.

I realized, with a sinking feeling, that he wasn’t amused or judgmental. He was…enjoying the view. And that was infinitely worse.

I wanted to disappear. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I wanted literally anything except to be stared at by the most infuriatingly attractive human on earth while trying to deliver food.

And then, just when I thought the universe might cut me some slack, another disaster occurred. My shoelace…yes, the one I had tied after getting down from my scooter, trust me I did tie it. But it has decided tonight was the night it would betray me. It caught on the edge of the pool deck. I tripped. I managed to stay upright for two glorious seconds before the bag tipped forward. Fried chicken, fries, and a suspiciously suspicious-looking side of coleslaw tumbled onto the pristine marble floor.

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no!” I squeaked, flailing.

God!  The sound of laughter. This time it wasn’t a small chuckle, it was a collective, echoing ha-ha, directed entirely at me. My dignity? Shattered. My confidence? Exploded. My desire to teleport back to my bedroom? Desperate.

And Derek? He walked over. Slowly. Deliberately. Like he was assessing the damage. Me, the food, the marble…and deciding which part of my life he wanted to ruin first.

“Nice reflexes,” he said. His voice was calm, smooth, with that infuriating smirk. “Almost caught it.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the coleslaw at him. I wanted to vanish. Instead, I muttered, “Thanks,” because apparently words were optional when your life was being judged by a living heartbreaker.

He glanced at the mess. Then, to my horror, he crouched slightly, picked up the food, and handed it back to me. My brain short-circuited.

“Careful next time,” he added. That smirk again, like he knew exactly how my internal panic looked and was enjoying it far too much.

I took the bag, muttered something that was hopefully a sentence, and backed away slowly, trying to act like tripping, spilling food, and almost dying in front of Derek Hayes was perfectly normal.

As I reached the gate, I realized two things:

I survived. Barely.

 Derek Hayes was now a permanent problem in my life.

Because whether I liked it or not, the guy had noticed me. And in a world where I spent my life being invisible, this was…terrifying.

I got back on my scooter, and took several deep breaths. My hands were shaking. My pride? Destroyed. My future? Probably ruined. And yet…somehow…my curiosity about him had taken root.

The universe hates me. But maybe, just maybe, it also has a sense of humor…