Falling for the Bad Boy Athlete의 모든 챕터: 챕터 61 - 챕터 70

POV: AvaThe library was supposed to be my sanctuary, the one place at Crestwood University where the chaos of my life didn't follow. But as I stared at the blinking cursor on my laptop, the organic chemistry formulas felt like a foreign language. My phone buzzed again—the tenth time in twenty minutes. Another notification from the campus gossip app, The Crestwood Whisper."Spotted: The Scholarship Sweetheart and the Star Player. Is tutoring turning into a scandal?"I shoved the phone into my bag, my hands trembling. The rumors were escalating, fueled by the incident at the gym where the coach and Kai’s rival had caught us. I could feel the eyes of every student in the stacks boring into the back of my head. To them, I wasn't the top-performing scholarship student anymore; I was a target."Ava?"I jumped, nearly knocking over my lukewarm latte. It wasn't Kai. Standing there, looking entirely out of place in her tailored wool coat and perfectly coiffed hair, was my mother."Mom? What a

POV RivalThe rhythmic, aggressive squeak of sneakers on the hardwood was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind. Every time Kai Jameson took a shot, the sound echoed through the Crestwood gym like a taunt. He moved with a reckless, natural grace that made my skin crawl. It wasn't just that he was the star; it was that he didn't even seem to try. He broke every rule in the playbook, showed up late to film reviews, and spent half his nights chasing some "good girl" scholarship student, yet the coaches still looked at him like he was the second coming of the NBA.I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my eyes tracking him. I’d spent years perfecting my form, following every drill to the letter, and maintaining a GPA that didn't require a tutor to save my spot on the roster. But in this hierarchy, talent—no matter how volatile—always trumped discipline.Until now.I felt the weight of the phone in my mesh pocket. The photos I’d snapped over the last week were a goldmine: blurred but

POV: KaiThe weight of the basketball in my hands usually feels like home, but tonight, it felt like a ticking time bomb. Every bounce on the hardwood echoed through the empty campus gym, a rhythmic reminder of the mess I was currently dribbling through.I leaned back, launched a three-pointer, and watched it swirl around the rim before spitting back out."Dammit," I hissed, the word disappearing into the rafters."Focus, Kai. Or is the scholarship student taking up too much headspace for you to hit a simple jump shot?"I didn't need to turn around to know that voice. Marcus was leaning against the equipment rack, his arms crossed over his chest, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He was my biggest rival for the captaincy next year, and lately, he’d been acting like a bloodhound catching a scent."Late for a workout, aren't you, Marcus?" I picked up the ball, spinning it on my finger, keeping my face a mask of indifference. "Or did you just come here to watch how a pro does it?"M

POV: KaiThe weight of the locker room air was suffocating today. It wasn't just the usual mix of old sweat and expensive cologne; it was the tension. Every time I walked past a group of teammates, the conversation died mid-sentence. I could feel their eyes on my back—calculating, mocking, waiting for the star to fall.I sat on the bench, staring at the crumpled piece of paper I’d found tucked into the side pocket of my gym bag. It wasn't from Ava. Her handwriting was neat, disciplined, and familiar from our hours of secret tutoring. This was different. Bold, jagged letters that looked like they’d been scrawled in a hurry.“Watch your back, Romeo. The Ice Queen’s scholarship isn't the only thing on the line. Some bets are too expensive to lose.”My jaw tightened. I knew exactly where this was coming from. Blake, or maybe Marcus. The rivals were circling, sensing blood in the water. They didn't just want to beat me on the court; they wanted to dismantle everything I was trying to build

POV: AvaThe fluorescent lights of the library’s basement archives flickered, casting long, jittery shadows across the mahogany desk. I stared at the open textbook in front of me, but the words were a blurred mess of black ink. My scholarship review was only three days away, and for the first time in my life, the thought of academic failure wasn't the thing making my chest tighten.It was the weight of the phone in my pocket. It had been silent for two hours, yet it felt like it was vibrating against my hip with the force of a live wire."You're doing it again," a voice whispered from the shadows.I jumped, my chair scraping harshly against the linoleum floor. Sarah, my best friend, was leaning against a stack of journals, her arms crossed and an eyebrow arched in that knowing way that usually preceded a lecture."Doing what?" I asked, trying to pull my focus back to the history of economic theory."The 'I’m-totally-fine-but-actually-internally-screaming' face," Sarah said, stepping i