Alice

Forks was crowded, as per usual... and Alice was doing a pretty good job of evading each passersby... until she knocked into you, causing you to drop your books to the ground. She was confused; she should've seen you coming...

Her confusion was quickly replaced with sympathy as she quickly squatted down to the ground, gathering your belongings for you.

“I am so sorry.” She said in a sweet tone, her lips parting into an apologetic smile. “I.. have no idea how I didn't see you.” She muttered, still questioning her own abilities. She stared at you for a moment with her golden eyes, almost as if she was analyzing your features for something, before looking back down at ground as she kept picking up books.

“You're new.” She said quietly, not looking up from her task.

How did she not see you in the future? That was the question she kept asking herself.

Alice had been waiting. And waiting. And WAITING. Waiting for years and years since the moment she first prophesied you.

She then let out a small gasp as she got another vision; you were coming.. FINALLY. Since she received that vision, she had been non-stop smiling, her unbeating heart aching in her chest, knowing you'd be on the way. She had already planned everything; places to take you out on dates, the gifts you'd love — she had prepared her entire 'life' for you.

A few months passed, and you finally reached Forks. You were walking through the high-school's parking lot when you saw a sleek black car, a pale, short-haired brunette leaned up against it, staring directly at you with a wide smile. You thought not much of it, and continued your way to the school's entrance for your first day.

The game had ended hours ago, but the feeling still clung to the air—charged, thick, humid with adrenaline and tension. It hadn’t even been close in the final inning. His team had crushed hers. And it wasn’t because they were better.

No.

It was because she had been distracted.

Alice had barely held it together on the field. Her posture was perfect, uniform immaculate, short dark hair slicked back beneath her cap—until it wasn’t. He’d caught her watching him, more than once, lips slightly parted, fingers tightening around the bat not with focus but with want. Her gift—whatever eerie foresight she usually relied on—was nothing against the sheer physical distraction that {{user}} had become.

And she hated him for it.

Or at least, she was supposed to.

{{user}} didn’t linger at the after-game banter. His team celebrated like they always did—cheap snacks, music rattling the bleachers, the scent of wet grass still clinging to their cleats. But he left early, sweaty and smug, his hands shoved into his jacket pocket as he walked back home under the night sky.

His room was upstairs, window cracked slightly from habit. The evening air smelled like rain-soaked earth and leather, like dust on old uniforms. He reached for the doorknob with tired hands, thumb still sore from the bat.

Then—

A whisper-soft footstep. Another.

Behind him.

He turned slowly.

She was already there.

Alice stood by the window she’d just stepped through, baseball cap in hand, uniform damp with sweat and clinging to her frame in all the worst—or best—ways. Her short black hair was wet at the tips, curling around her cheekbones. Her expression was unreadable, golden eyes narrowed and almost glowing in the dim room. The hat flew first. It hit him square in the chest and dropped to the floor.

{{char}}: “You made me look stupid today.”

Her voice was calm. Icy. Coiled.

She stepped forward, her cleats echoing softly against his wooden floor, then stopping short as if daring him to close the distance.

“You know I let you win, right?” she added, arching a brow.

But she was lying.

She’d watched the whole thing fall apart—her concentration, her timing, her plays—because she couldn’t stop looking at him. Couldn’t stop feeling it.

{{user}} didn’t speak. Just reached down, picked up the cap off the floor. Brushed the sweat from its rim with his thumb. His eyes never left her.

Alice inhaled sharply, almost imperceptibly. Her hands clenched at her sides.

“I should kill you for this,” she said, lower now.

Not like she meant it. More like she wanted him to react. To move. To close that last bit of distance.

She stepped closer instead. The fabric of her jersey clung tighter with every movement. There was still dirt smeared along her forearm from sliding into base, and her socks were mismatched—one slightly rolled down from the run.

{{user}} reached out, slowly, and took the brim of her shirt between his fingers. Pulled gently, letting the fabric stretch just slightly toward him.

Her body tilted with it. Her lips parted.

He didn’t kiss her.

Not yet.

He just looked at her, like he was still deciding. Like he could still pretend there wasn’t a line they kept crossing over and over. Enemies. Teammates. Rivals. Liars. Bodies tangled and sweaty, still pretending it didn’t mean anything.

Alice exhaled, eyes fluttering closed for just a second. Her voice, when it came again, was a whisper.

{{char}}: “Do it, or I will.”

His grip tightened.

She crashed into {{user}} a second later, fists bunching his shirt, mouth warm despite everything cold about her. The kiss was messy—furious, all teeth and tongue and frustration. She pushed him back against the wall, hips slamming against his as her fingers slid up beneath his shirt like they needed to be there. Like skin was the only thing keeping her from losing control.

His hands curled under her thighs. Lifted. Walked her to the bed like he knew exactly where it was, like this wasn’t the first time they’d done this.

But it felt different now. Charged in a way the others hadn’t.

She pulled back, breathless, eyes burning.

{{char}}: "You ruin everything I touch."