Free Web NovelChapter 137: At The Infirmary
Jason POV:
Great. Just great. Now she probably thinks I’m the biggest doofus to ever walk the earth. And honestly? She wouldn’t be wrong. I mean, who manages to score for the wrong team in front of their crush? Yep, that would be me. Jason, the self-proclaimed basketball star turned walking disaster. I can already imagine the look on her face: the cringe, the secondhand embarrassment. Hell, I embarrassed myself.
Coach always says that every game is a chance to prove yourself. Well, congrats to me for proving that I can single-handedly sabotage a game. And for what? To impress a girl who probably thinks I’m a joke now? Perfect. Just perfect.
I Lying on this lumpy excuse for a bed in the infirmary isn’t doing much to help my mood. My ankle’s wrapped up like a mummy, and the throbbing pain is nothing compared to the humiliation burning in my chest.The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the fan. I couldn’t stop replaying the game in my head. The moment I saw her in the bleachers, hood up, trying to stay invisible. Max shouting her name. My stupid self, deciding to show off instead of focusing on the game. And then that shot. The shot that sealed our loss.
Coach had been surprisingly chill—or maybe just too disappointed to yell. "Hope you win that girl you were trying to impress," he’d said with a half-hearted glare before walking off. The team? Oh, they’d had a field day, laughing and hooting like I’d done something heroic instead of humiliating.
But me? I felt like crawling into a hole and staying there forever.
I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time, hoping—no, praying—for some kind of message from Ella. A simple "Get well soon" or even a sarcastic "Nice shot" would’ve been better than this silence. I mean, I shouldn’t expect much—she’s not exactly the text-first type—but still, nothing? After what happened today, I was hoping for something. Anything.
Nothing.
Not a single word.
I sighed, tossing the phone onto my bedside table. Maybe I’d been kidding myself. Maybe Ella wasn’t impressed, or worse, maybe she was embarrassed for me. Heck, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to talk to me again. I mean, who wants to be associated with the guy who cost his team their final game?
The cheers from the other team’s fans are still ringing in my ears, louder than the sound of my own teammates groaning in disappointment. And Ella... She was there. I saw her. She had her hoodie pulled low and her mask up like she was trying to pretend she didn’t know me. Smart move. Who’d want to be associated with the guy who scored the winning point—for the other team?
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. "You’re a mess, Jason," I mutter to myself.
Still, a part of me keeps hoping. Hoped that she didn’t see me as the idiot I felt like right now. Hoped that she’d text, even if it was just to tell me how much of a fool I’d been. Maybe she’s just busy. Maybe she doesn’t know what to say. Or maybe she thinks I need space after what happened. Yeah, that’s it. She’s giving me time to lick my wounds.
But as the hours dragged on and my phone stayed silent, that hope started to fade.
Maybe I blew it, not just the game but my shot with her too.
What if she thinks I’m just some overconfident idiot who can’t even focus on a game without getting distracted? What if she regrets even showing up?
My chest tightens at the thought. I grab my phone again, staring at her contact. Should I text her? Apologize for being such an idiot? Ask her if she’s okay after witnessing that disaster?
But then I hesitate. What if I say the wrong thing? What if she’s already made up her mind about me?
In the end, I don’t text her. I don’t even know what I’d say. Instead, I shove my phone under my pillow and close my eyes, praying that sleep will take me before I spiral any further.
Because the truth is, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not just disappointed in myself.
I’m scared. Scared that I’ve lost the game, my dignity, and maybe even Ella. All in one spectacularly embarrassing move.
I guess I’ll have to disappoint Coach, after all. Because right now, it doesn’t feel like I got the girl.
By morning I was a pity party not wanting to wake up.
You know that feeling when life can’t get any worse, and then your obnoxious friends show up to make it a hundred times more unbearable? Yeah, that was my morning.
There I was, half-mummified with bandages, barely awake, and trying to recover from yesterday’s disaster. My dignity was already six feet under, and then Max and Dylan barged into my room, loud and cheerful as if we hadn’t lost the game thanks to me.
"We’re here to pick you up, Captain!" Max announced, grinning like an idiot.
"Pick me up for what? A pity parade?" I groaned, burying my face in the pillow.
Before I could launch into a rant about how I wasn’t ready for human interaction, the door opened again, and this time, it wasn’t my boisterous teammates.
It was Ella.
She walked in with a basket of fruit, looking way too put together for this ungodly hour. I froze mid-complaint, suddenly hyper-aware of how disheveled I must’ve looked. Bedhead? Check. Crumpled t-shirt? Check. Morning breath? Oh, definitely check.
And did my so-called friends help? Nope. They went straight for the fruit.
"Ella brought that for me," I snapped, glaring at Max, who was already peeling an orange. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
"Sharing is caring, bro," he said through a mouthful of fruit.
"Yeah, thanks for the snack, Ella," Dylan chimed in, grabbing a banana.
I could feel my blood pressure rising. "Can you two not?!"
Ella just laughed softly, like she was used to dealing with toddlers. "It’s fine, Jason. They seem to be enjoying it."
"No, it’s not fine," I said, shooting Max and Dylan a pointed look. My eyes practically screamed, Bathroom. Now.
Taking the hint, they jumped into action—sort of.
"We’ll help you freshen up," Dylan said, smirking.
Max grabbed my arm dramatically. "To the washroom we go!"
Inside the bathroom, it was a whole other level of chaos.
"Your hair looks like a bird’s nest," Max declared, running his fingers through it and making it worse.
"Your breath could kill a plant," Dylan added, shoving a toothbrush into my hand with an unnecessary amount of toothpaste.
Between their teasing and rough attempts at grooming me, I realized something: these idiots were actually trying to help. Sure, they were obnoxious about it, but they were making an effort to help me look presentable in front of Ella.
"Why are you even helping me?" I asked, spitting out toothpaste.
Max shrugged. "Well, we were going for her too, remember? But after your... performance yesterday, we figured we’d give you a free pass today. It’s the least we can do."
"Gee, thanks," I muttered, rolling my eyes. They just had to remind me of yesterday’s debacle.
Once they deemed me "Ella-ready," they practically shoved me out of the bathroom.
"Go charm her, Captain," Dylan said, grinning as he locked the door behind me.
I was sure they were eavesdropping, but I couldn’t focus on that now. Ella was sitting there, looking way too calm for someone who just walked into this circus of a morning.
"Sorry about... them," I said, scratching the back of my head.
She smiled, holding up an apple from the basket. "They seem fun. Energetic, at least."
"Energetic is one way to put it," I muttered, sitting down awkwardly.
And just like that, the morning I thought would be a disaster somehow turned into something... tolerable. Maybe even nice.
About yesterday... where do I even start?
I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly, trying to find the right words. "Sorry you had to see that."
Ella’s response was classic Ella—cheeky, blunt, and delivered with a mischievous smile. "And miss the legendary Jason shot? Yeah, right."
Ouch. That was mean. Totally uncalled for. But then again, this was Ella. She wasn’t like anyone else. Other girls might’ve brushed it off, saying something sweet or encouraging, but Ella? She went straight for the jugular, and somehow, it made her even more... her.
Embarrassed, I opened my mouth to retort, but no words came out. Speechless. That was me. Jason, the captain of the basketball team, rendered completely mute by a girl with a hoodie and a sharp tongue.
From the bathroom, I heard a poorly concealed cough, the kind that wasn’t trying very hard not to sound like laughter. Dylan, definitely Dylan.
Ella’s gaze flicked to the bathroom door, her eyebrow arching as if she could see right through the walls to the idiots inside. "Ooh, well," she said, her tone casual but her smirk teasing, "I guess I should leave you to it. I think they’ve come to discharge you."
She stood, grabbing her stuff and heading for the door.
"See you at the diner," I blurted out, trying to prolong the moment.
She paused, turning around, her face unreadable. "I don’t work there anymore."
Before her words could fully sink in, the bathroom door burst open, and out spilled Max and Dylan, both looking completely unrepentant for eavesdropping.
"What?" Max nearly shouted, his expression of pure shock. "Since when?"
Ella didn’t even spare them a second glance, her focus still on me. "See you during graduation," she said with a small wave before walking out, leaving behind two stunned idiots and one guy whose worst fears were slowly becoming reality.
Gone. Just like that.
The door clicked shut, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. She was leaving. Not just the diner, but everything. Before I even realized it, Ella had become... important. And now, she was slipping through my fingers.
Max’s voice cut through my thoughts. "Dude, you seriously didn’t know she quit?"
"Nope." My voice came out flat.
Dylan patted my shoulder, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Well, looks like you’ve got some serious work to do if you don’t want her to disappear after graduation."
No kidding.
