Smash to the Heart

Aerin's POV
Late Night

I couldn’t sleep. 

The pressure was getting to me, the thought of the finals tomorrow swirling in my head. 

I had to do something, anything, to take my mind off it. 

So, I quietly slipped out of my dorm room, careful not to wake the others.

The campus was eerily quiet, only the soft rustle of trees in the wind and the occasional murmur of distant voices. 

I headed toward the tennis courts, knowing it would be empty this time of night. 

A little late-night practice wouldn't hurt, right?

When I reached the courts, I was surprised to see a shadow already moving around in the dim light. 

At first, I thought it was one of the staff, but then the figure turned, and I saw the unmistakable silhouette.

There, standing by the net, was none other than Margo Castellen.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, both clearly surprised to see the other here. 

The quiet of the night seemed to stretch, and I wasn’t sure what to say. 

We were both here for the same reason, but neither of us had expected to run into each other.

“Are you—” I began, but then trailed off, unsure what exactly to ask.

Margo was the first to break the silence, a slight grin forming on her face. “Didn’t think I’d run into anyone else out here at this hour.”

I cleared my throat, adjusting my racket in my hand. “I could say the same thing.”

We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving, just silently acknowledging the awkwardness between us. 

We were competitors, yes, but there was something else. 

Finally, she took a step forward, tapping the ground with her racket as if challenging the silence between us. “Well, if we’re both here to practice, I don’t mind sharing the court.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? I don’t mind getting in your way.”

Her eyes narrowed for a split second, but her smirk didn’t fade. “I’m more than capable of handling a little distraction.”

I felt the challenge in her words, and something inside me sparked. I wasn’t backing down either. “I’m not worried.”

The moment stretched on, and I couldn’t quite place what it was, but there was something about the way she carried herself that grated on me. 

She wasn’t just confident—she was too confident.

“Well, if we’re going to be here anyway,” Margo continued, her tone a little too casual, “might as well make the most of it. Don’t you think?”

I didn’t respond immediately. 

Instead, I walked to my side of the court and began setting up. 

But I could feel her watching me, her eyes lingering a little too long. 

I focused on the task at hand, but the weight of her gaze made it hard to shake the odd tension that had built between us.

We started hitting balls back and forth, the sound of the racket meeting the ball breaking the silence of the night. 

At first, it was just that—practice. 

But the more we played, the more I noticed the subtle little shifts in the way we moved. 

She was testing me, seeing how I would respond to each shot.

I wasn’t oblivious to it. I knew exactly what she was doing.

Her serves were sharp, precise, clearly meant to throw me off. 

I returned them with the same intensity, refusing to let her get under my skin. 

But I could feel the pressure mounting, the challenge between us thickening in the air.

Then, she hit a particularly tricky shot—one that I barely managed to return. 

I was getting frustrated. 

She knew it, and she smirked.

“You know,” she said, her voice calm, “you’re not bad, but you could be better.”

I swallowed the retort that immediately rose in my throat. “I don’t need your advice,” I said, my words clipped.

Margo shrugged, as if it didn’t bother her. “You’re right. You don’t.”

I gritted my teeth. 

There it was again—her arrogance. 

She was good, no doubt about it, but there was something about the way she acted like she had already won that I couldn’t stand.

With a deep breath, I focused again. I couldn’t let her throw me off. 

I swung my racket, trying to hit a perfect return, but my grip slipped slightly and the ball went wide.

Margo’s eyes lit up with that competitive gleam again, and she took the opportunity to taunt, “See? Told you. A little more precision, and you wouldn’t be missing shots like that.”

I felt the sting of her words, and despite myself, I snapped. “Don’t get too cocky, Castellen. You’re not invincible.”

Her grin faltered for just a moment before it returned, even wider than before. “We’ll see tomorrow, won’t we?”

I didn’t answer. 

The air inside was suffocating now, and the more we exchanged words, the more I felt it building. 

Neither of us was willing to back down, and I knew that’s exactly what she wanted—this little verbal sparring match, this dance of tension between us.

Before we could continue, I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. 

My head snapped to the side, and we both froze.

A security guard appeared from the shadows, his flashlight cutting through the darkness. “Hoy!” he called out, his voice sharp. “Ano pa ginawa niyo rito?”

Margo and I exchanged a quick look, then turned back to the guard. “We’re just practicing po,” she said, her voice calm but with a noticeable edge to it.

The guard wasn’t convinced. “Gabi na. Bumalik na kayo sa mga kwarto niyo bago ko pa kayo i-report.”

I could feel my frustration bubbling up again, but I held it in check, not wanting to deal with more trouble. “Fine. We’re done anyway,” I muttered, grabbing my racket and starting to head for the exit.

Margo followed me, not saying another word, but the tension between us lingered in the cool night air. 

As we walked toward the gate, I couldn’t help but glance back at her.

Tomorrow. The match. The real showdown.

We were both ready.