The cafeteria was unusually quiet that afternoon—most students were outside for club recruitments or slacking off in the shade. But Jomar sat near the window with a tray of rice, fried chicken, and a soda that was dangerously close to room temperature.
"Mind if I sit here?" came a familiar voice.
Jomar looked up.
Dane, tall and calm as ever, with a basketball towel around his neck and his hair still damp from practice, nodded toward the empty seat.
"Go ahead," Jomar said, scooting over.
They ate in companionable silence for a while. Jomar focused on his chicken. Dane slowly demolished a plate of spaghetti and siomai, as if he had all the time in the world.
Then:
"You went to tryouts, right?" Dane asked casually, sipping from his water bottle.
"Yeah. Basketball. For about five minutes."
Dane chuckled. "I remember. You shot like you were in a telenovela. Coach Dan looked like he aged five years."
"I got stage fright, okay?" Jomar groaned. "Then your coach stared into my soul. I panicked."
"So you joined tennis instead?"
"...Yeah."
Dane raised an eyebrow. "Interesting pivot. From basketball dreams to... tennis parties."
"It's not a party!" Jomar said too quickly. Then paused. "Okay. It was a little party-ish."
"Right. I heard your intramurals felt like a karaoke night with rackets."
Jomar grinned, then shrugged. "Still, I like it there. They're weird, but fun."
"And the girl?"
Jomar blinked. "What?"
Dane leaned back in his chair. "The one you're always paired with. Mira, right?"
Jomar froze mid-sip. "How'd you—?"
"You talk about her without realizing. It's kind of obvious."
"I don't—!"
"You called her Coach Mango earlier in the hallway."
Jomar choked on his soda. "I was joking!"
Dane laughed. "Relax. I'm not teasing. Just curious."
"She's just my partner," Jomar muttered, poking at his rice. "Mixed doubles."
"Is she good?"
"She's amazing."
The words left his mouth faster than he could stop them.
Dane smirked. "That fast answer, huh?"
"I meant at tennis."
"Mmm."
"Seriously, she's been playing since elementary. Knows all the rules, form, technique. And she's... y'know. Confident. Bossy sometimes. But helpful."
Dane nodded. "Sounds like someone you admire."
Jomar shrugged, suddenly aware of the faint heat creeping up his neck. "I guess. She's also a bit chaotic."
"That can be cute," Dane said simply.
Jomar blinked. "Huh?"
"I mean—chaotic girls. It's not a bad thing. They're full of energy. They throw your world off-balance in a good way."
"You say that like you've had experience."
"Maybe," Dane replied, ever unreadable. "But I'm not the one suddenly spending lunch talking about her perfume."
"I never mentioned—wait, how did you—?!"
"Lucky guess."
Jomar buried his face in his hands. "This school is cursed. Everyone's psychic."
Dane leaned forward slightly, tone still gentle. "I'm just saying… if you're thinking about her a lot, maybe it's not just mixed doubles."
Jomar stayed quiet for a long moment.
He remembered the way Mira had laughed earlier, unguarded and full. The way she got frustrated when he missed a shot but still encouraged him. The way she stood beside him and made the court feel less scary. The mango scent. The teasing smile. Her hands adjusting his grip—soft but firm, like she knew exactly what she was doing and had no time for his overthinking.
"She's kind of..." Jomar started, then paused. "She's... Mira."
Dane smiled. "That says enough."
Jomar pushed his tray aside and slumped over the table. "Ugh. I don't want to catch feelings. This isn't even the main plotline!"
"What plotline?"
"I dunno. My life."
"Ah. The 'guy joins tennis and gets bullied into love by a fruit-scented girl' genre."
"Exactly!"
Dane laughed again, not meanly, just amused. "It's okay. Just don't overthink it. See where it goes. You'll know when it's real."
"You're surprisingly wise for someone who can dunk on people's souls."
"I read books."
"Disgusting."
They laughed together.
Outside, the school bell rang.
"Gotta go," Dane said, standing. "Coach Dan will eat me alive if I'm late."
"Good luck," Jomar said.
"You too, Romeo."
"Stop."
As Dane walked off, Jomar stayed seated a moment longer, watching the sunlight fall through the window.
Mira.
He had no idea when her name started echoing in his head like a favorite song. He wasn't even sure if she liked him or was just naturally that charming to everyone.
But… he'd find out. Eventually.
And for now?
He'd serve, miss, try again.
And maybe, just maybe, impress her a little.