Nerdy Terms Bullseye

Tyara's Pov

"Three seconds!" Jax yelled from the sidelines, his voice cutting through the screech of sneakers on the hardwood. "Tyara, move!"

I didn't need him to tell me the time. I could feel the clock ticking down in the back of my throat.

The university's point guard dropped low, his arms spread wide, sweat dripping from his chin onto the polished floor. "You're done, Morelli," he panted, his chest heaving. "You're not getting past me."

"Watch me," I muttered.

I snapped the ball between my legs, a hard, blinding crossover that sent him leaning the wrong way. His left sneaker slid, his ankles tangled, and he hit the floor with a loud, hollow thud.

"Help! In the paint!" their center roared, stepping up to block the basket. He was a wall of muscle, easily two hundred and forty pounds, lunging right into my landing zone.

I didn't brake. I launched straight into his chest, absorbing the brutal impact in mid-air, and flicked my wrist.

The ball kissed the glass and dropped through the net right as the final buzzer shrieked.

Swish.

The gym erupted into absolute madness. The student section breached the security barriers, their voices morphing into a deafening, rhythmic chant: "TY-A-RA! TY-A-RA!"

I landed lightly on my feet, completely unfazed by the crowd flooding the court. I let a cold smile touch my lips as I walked toward our bench.

"Unbelievable!" Jax shouted, rushing out to meet me and throwing a heavy arm over my shoulder. "You literally took his legs out from under him, Ty! He’s still looking for his pride on the floor."

"He was leaning left the entire fourth quarter," I said, peeling his arm off my neck. I didn't like being touched when I was hot. "If a senior university captain can't read a basic stance, he shouldn't be starting."

"Tyara! Incredible game! Best one yet!" a guy from the front row yelled, shoving a fresh towel and a sports drink into my face.

"Thanks," I muttered, grabbing the towel and tossing the unopened bottle straight into Jax’s chest without looking back at the guy.

"Yo, what the hell is that?" Jax stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes locking onto the collar of my jersey. He snagged the mesh, tugging it aside to reveal the fresh, matte-black ink curling up the side of my neck—a sharp, intricate viper coiling toward my jaw. "When the hell did you get a neck tattoo?"

"Yesterday," I said, keeping my pace toward the locker room tunnel.

"Yesterday? Who even convinced you to do that?" Jax hurried to keep up, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "Your dad is going to lose his mind. He'd kill anyone else for putting something that loud where a sports camera can catch it."

I let out a short, sharp laugh. "Hell yes. That bitch told me to get it, so I got it."

"Are you serious? You actually listened to her?"

"I do whatever I want, Jax. You know that."

He didn't pry further. He wasn't stupid. He knew the boundaries, and he knew that trying to push into my personal life was a quick way to get cut out of it entirely.

As we bypassed the main exit, four university security guards immediately stepped into formation behind us, locking arms to hold back the aggressive wave of fans. They didn't sweat through their blazers just because I could hit a buzzer-beater. They did it because of the name stitched across my shoulders.

Morelli.

In this city, my family's name was a currency built on fear. Businessmen cleared their entire week if my father called. Politicians smoothed over audits before our lawyers could even draft a response. Professors handed me extensions before I could even ask, their hands shaking slightly as they signed off on the syllabus. The darker rumors about our empire's grip on the city's underbelly stayed whispered in the corners of the campus. I didn't have to demand respect; I had breathed it in since birth. It was automatic.

"The crew is hitting Axis Club first," Jax said, flipping through text messages on his phone as we reached the quieter athletic hallway. "Then that massive house party up in the northern hills. The promoter at Axis already set aside the entire VIP deck. You have to show up, Ty. If you don't, half the campus is going to ditch."

I rolled my shoulders, my leather duffel slung over one arm. "Maybe. I'll stop by, but I'm not staying long or I might not even come. I have things to deal with tomorrow."

"Come on, just an hour," Jax grinned, flashing his screen at me. "As long as people see your car out front, the night is a guaranteed hit."

"I said maybe, Jax."

"Um... Tyara?"

The voice was tiny, a brittle, trembling thing that cut through the quiet hallway.

I paused, turning my head slowly to look downward. A freshman girl was standing by the water fountains, clutching a sharpie and a pristine, brand-new basketball to her chest. Her knees were visibly shaking under an oversized university hoodie. A few trainers and athletes lingering nearby stopped talking instantly to watch.

I stared at her, my face completely expressionless. "What?"

"I... I was wondering if you could sign this?" she stammered, holding out the marker. Her fingers were trembling so hard the plastic cap rattled against the barrel. Under my glare, a deep crimson flush crawled up her cheeks. "I've watched every game this season. You're... you're amazing."

I didn't reach for the marker. I just tilted my head, letting the silence stretch until she looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

"Are you serious right now?" I asked, my voice dripping with dry, low-effort mockery.

"I—I just thought—"

"Do I look like an entertainment act to you?" I stepped closer, watching her shrink back against the wall. "Do I look like someone who stands in a hallway signing garbage for children? Get out of my face."

The girl’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. Tears welled in her eyes as she dropped her hands, spun around, and sprinted down the corridor. The heavy exit doors swung shut behind her with a loud bang.

Jax winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Damn, Ty. That was a little harsh, don't you think? She was just a fan."

I frowned, a genuine spark of irritation flaring in my chest. To me, his perspective made absolutely no sense. "Harsh? I told her the truth."

"She's a freshman, Ty. She didn't know."

"Then she learned today," I retorted, dropping my bag onto my shoulder. "If she's that weak that a few words make her cry in a hallway, she shouldn't be breathing my air anyway."

Before Jax could respond, a heavy, dull thud echoed through the corridor.

My right shoulder slammed violently into someone rounding the blind corner of the intersection. The impact jolted me back half a step, the strap of my duffel bag slipping down my forearm.

The sound of tearing cardboard and heavy bindings hitting the floor erupted between us. A massive stack of thick, academic textbooks flew out of the person's arms, scattering across the dirty linoleum.

I snapped my head down, my vision narrowing as a hot, dangerous rush of anger flared in my throat.

The guy was already on his knees. He wasn't looking at me, or Jax, or the athletes staring in the background. He had messy, uncombed brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, and wore a faded, oversized corduroy jacket. He was completely unfamiliar. I knew every face on this campus that mattered, and he wasn't one of them.

I stood perfectly still, waiting.

I waited for the look of absolute horror to hit his eyes when he realized whose jersey he had just ruined. I waited for the stuttering, the frantic apologies, the trembling hands begging me not to tell my family.

Instead, he just reached out, grabbed a massive volume on theoretical physics, wiped a speck of dust off the cover with his sleeve, and began stacking it on top of a chemistry text.

My teeth ground together. "You just bumped into me," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried the distinct, freezing edge of a threat that usually made grown men back out of a room.

The guy didn't freeze. He adjusted his glasses with one index finger, pushing them back up to his eyes, and finally looked up at me. His eyes were entirely calm.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. His tone was entirely matter-of-fact, clear and unhurried. "I didn't see you."

A physical jolt went through my chest, cold and sharp. My brain momentarily stalled. "You didn't see me?" I repeated, stepping directly into his space, looming over him. My shadow completely covered his books.

The guy blinked once, his expression shifting into mild confusion. "No," he said, his tone deadpan. "I'm sorry."

I stared down at him, wondering if he was losing his mind. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

He stopped stacking. He held three heavy books against his ribs, looking up at me through his smudged lenses. He took a fraction of a second to look me up and down, his face remaining a completely unreadable, blank slate.

"Should I?" he asked.

The two words hit the air like a physical blow.

The hallway went dead, completely silent. Jax stopped breathing beside me. The trainers in the background froze in mid-motion. Nobody moved.

Before the white-hot fury in my chest could turn into the words that would absolutely ruin his life, a loud, echoing shout came from the far end of the corridor near the exit doors.

"Decan! Come on, man, we're going to be late for the lab! Professor Sage is already locking the equipment cabinets!"

Decan scooped up the final two textbooks from the floor, clutching the massive stack tightly against his chest. He stood up in one smooth motion, his shoulder brushing past mine as he completely bypassed my personal bubble without a single hint of hesitation.

"Yeah! I'm coming!" Decan called back toward the glass doors. He turned his head slightly toward me one last time, his voice completely level. "Sorry again."

And then, he just walked away.

He didn't look back to see if I was watching him. He didn't glance at the back of my jersey to check my name. He didn't look intimidated, or flirty, or secretly pleased with himself. He just walked down the long corridor, his heavy jacket swaying slightly with his stride, completely consumed by whatever lab assignment was running through his head.

I stood frozen in the exact center of the floor, my hands clenching into tight, white-knuckled fists. A hot, furious rush of pure adrenaline flooded my veins, completely different from the clean, triumphant high of winning the game.

What the fuck just happened?

I slowly turned my head, looking back at Jax. "Jax."

He was staring at the empty doorway where Decan had just disappeared, his jaw slightly slack. "Yeah?"

"Who the hell was that?"

Jax swallowed hard, looking around the quiet hallway. "I... I have no idea, Ty. I've never seen him before in my life."

Nobody else in the hallway said a single word. Because, apparently, I wasn't the only one who had just witnessed it. He had just walked away from me like I didn't mean a thing.