Tangled In The Captains Game (Short Story) Bumping Into The Ryder Carter

CHAPTER 2

The blaring sound of my alarm jolts me out of the kind of sleep where you close your eyes and—bam—night’s gone. Groggy and already questioning my life choices, I smack my phone to shut it off, blinking at the screen through half-closed eyes. “6:30 AM.” I groan. Why do I keep telling myself staying up late won’t come back to bite me?

Dragging myself out of bed, I stumble like a zombie toward the bathroom, nearly face-planting over a rogue pair of sneakers. It’s only the hot shower that keeps me from literally passing out on my feet. As the water beats down on me, I wake up—barely—while I mentally calculate if I can survive the day on caffeine and sheer willpower. Spoiler alert: probably not. Emerging from the bathroom, I attempt to wrangle my damp curls into submission. Spoiler alert number two: also not happening. With a defeated sigh, I throw my hair into a messy bun, but of course, a few rebellious strands decide they’re too good for that and escape to frame my face like a crown of defiance.

I pull on my usual navy zip-up jacket and track pants with the white stripes, then adjust my glasses and give myself a once-over in the mirror. My curls look like they’re auditioning for a shampoo commercial gone wrong, in sharp contrast to Asher’s annoyingly perfect waves. He lucked out with Dad’s hair texture but Mom’s dirty blonde color, while I got the combo package of Mom’s curls and Dad’s brown hair. Life’s not fair sometimes.

By the time I’m actually dressed and semi-functional, it’s already 6:55. Fantastic. Late again. Grabbing my plaid backpack, I shove a piece of toast in my mouth and wave a half-hearted goodbye to Zuri, my new roommate, who looks way too chipper for this hour of the morning. Seriously, how is anyone that awake at this time? Still munching on my toast, I bolt out the door and race to Crescent Valley High.

By the time I get there, my hair has entirely given up on the bun and is now free-falling like it’s got a mind of its own. Typical. Rushing to my locker, I grab my math textbook and sprint toward class, which is probably why I don’t see him until it’s too late.

“Oof!” I collide with something solid—no, someone—and stumble back. Looking up (and up), I find myself face-to-face with Ryder Carter. Yup, the 6’4″ football captain himself. His usual stone-cold football-guy expression cracks slightly, giving way to what I can only describe as mild amusement. His piercing green eyes scan me, lingering a second too long on my hair, which is doing a fantastic impression of a bird’s nest. Great, just what I needed.

“I didn’t see you there,” I mumble, trying to act like it’s no big deal that I just body-slammed a human skyscraper. I straighten my glasses, feeling more awkward by the second.
Ryder, with that deep, smooth voice that probably makes people willingly listen to tax lectures, tilts his head. “You good?” His eyes sparkle with the tiniest hint of amusement as if he’s internally laughing but trying to play it cool. Then, without warning, he reaches out and casually tucks a stray curl behind my ear. His fingers brush my skin for like, half a second, but it’s enough to make my brain go on strike.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine. Just peachy,” I stammer like a complete idiot.
Right on cue, Asher appears, looming behind me with his 6’3″ protective older-brother vibes. His gaze jumps from me to Ryder, and I can practically hear the overprotective alarm bells going off in his head. “Something happening here?” he asks, his arm landing over my shoulder like a shield.

Ryder, not missing a beat, shrugs casually. “Didn’t realize you two were siblings.”

Asher flashes his trademark grin. “Yeah, well, I got the looks. Guess she didn’t.”

I elbow him hard, my face heating up. “Excuse me? I’m the charming one.”

Ryder chuckles, his green eyes still locked on mine. “Yeah, I can see that,” he says, his voice low and teasing. Oh great, now he’s flirting—right in front of my brother.

Asher, clearly not amused, narrows his eyes. “Flirting with my sister? That’ll cost you. I should start charging.”

Ryder’s grin grows wider, but he doesn’t back down. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 He gives Asher a nod, but not before his eyes flick back to me for just a second longer than necessary. Then, he turns and walks away, like he didn’t just throw the most casual flirt bomb in the history of flirt bombs.

Asher looks at me, eyebrow raised. “Is he blind? He winked at you.”

“Maybe his contacts are dry,” I mutter sarcastically.

By the time lunch rolls around, I’m ready to escape the whole awkward Ryder-Asher-flirting disaster. My hair is a mess, my ego’s a little bruised, and all I want is to sit down and pretend none of it ever happened. But of course, that’s too much to ask, because as soon as I walk into the cafeteria, I see Alya waving at me like a flag at a parade, her arms so dramatic that a few students nearby turn to look; with her long, ginger waves and the kind of energy that makes you wonder if she’s been chugging espressos since 6 AM, is impossible to miss. 

No one calls her Charlotte—not even her parents, apparently. She’s Alya, and she makes sure you know it.

“Novie! Over here!” she yells, as if I’m not already walking directly toward her.

Yup, Novie. I really need to upgrade my nickname game because this one sounds like it should belong to a stuffed animal. With a sigh, I plop down across from her.

Alya leans in with a huge grin. “Spill. I saw you with Ryder this morning. De-tails.”

I groan, rubbing my forehead. “It was nothing. I literally ran into him. Like, physically. He didn’t even see me coming.”

Alya’s eyes go wide like she’s about to hear the juiciest gossip of the century. “You ran into Ryder Carter? And you survived? Go on, I need more.”

“It was embarrassing,” I admit, rolling my eyes. “Asher swooped in, as usual, playing the overprotective brother role, and Ryder just stood there. Oh, and he tucked my hair behind my ear. No big deal.”

Alya gasps, grabbing my arm dramatically. “He touched your hair?”

I nod, downplaying it as much as I can, but Alya’s making it hard. “Yeah, and then Asher basically accused him of flirting.”

Alya’s jaw practically hits the table. “Flirting? Ryder Carter doesn’t flirt with just anyone. He’s like, football royalty, and he usually only notices cheerleaders.”

Shrugging, I attempt to stay cool, though my brain is still replaying Ryder’s fingers brushing against my hair. “I don’t know, maybe he flirts with everyone.”

Alya eyes me, clearly not buying it. “Not like that. Trust me, I’ve seen him. The guy’s got a type, and it’s all pom-poms and mini skirts. Not that you don’t look fab in track pants, Novie,” she adds quickly.

I laugh. “Gee, thanks for that confidence boost.”

Alya waves her hand like it’s no big deal. “You don’t need boosting. You’ve got brains and sass. He’s definitely interested, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

As if on cue, my eyes drift over to Ryder, who’s sitting across the cafeteria with his football crew. They’re laughing about something, but I catch Ryder glancing over at me, his gaze lingering for just a second before he looks away. I quickly snap my attention back to Alya, pretending I didn’t just get caught staring.

She, of course, notices. “You’re looking at him like he’s a snack.”

“I am not,” I protest, though my cheeks betray me by flushing red.

“You so are,” she says, grinning. “And don’t think I didn’t see him wink at you this morning. Ryder Carter doesn’t just wink at anyone.”

I groan again, sinking into my seat. “It wasn’t like that. It was probably a muscle twitch. Football reflexes, you know?”

Alya rolls her eyes. “Oh please, that wink was deliberate, and you know it. Face it, Novie—you’ve caught his attention, and things are about to get very interesting.”

I groan again, burying my face in my hands. “Let’s hope not too interesting. I’ve got enough drama with Asher being my personal bodyguard.”

Alya leans back, arms crossed, smirking. “Oh honey, trust me, Ryder doesn’t care. He flirted with you right in front of Asher. If that’s not confidence, I don’t know what is.”

I bite my lip, trying to act unbothered, but my brain keeps flashing back to Ryder’s smirk, his stupidly charming half-smile. “Well, here’s hoping it blows over fast.”

Alya snickers. “Or not. Looks like things are just getting started.”

I steal one last glance at Ryder, catching him giving me that same half-smile. Alya’s right. I might be in more trouble than I bargained for.

And honestly? I’m not sure I mind.