Chapter 5: Aftermatch Reflections

The sun was already halfway down the sky, dyeing the clouds orange and gold, when the team finally wrapped up for the day.

Jomar sat at the edge of the bench, towel around his neck, half-listening to Coach Tonton lecture Harold and Faye about "playing with dignity and not celebrating like they'd just won Wimbledon." Mira was on the other end of the bench, tying her shoelaces like they hadn't just lost a match, caused a volleyball-related casualty, and gotten grilled by a six-foot Amazon with a whistle.

Jomar stared at the court, elbows on his knees, lips pressed into a thoughtful line.

That serve. That serve.

He didn't mean to launch the ball into the stratosphere, let alone to the volleyball court. It just happened. And Mira… she didn't laugh at him. She teased him, sure, but not cruelly. She encouraged him. Coached him. Stuck by him even when he whiffed his shots and mistook a backhand for a slap.

"You okay?" Mira asked, nudging his arm with her elbow.

He looked up. She had her usual grin, that weird combo of smug and sunshine.

"I'm okay," he said, nodding slowly. "I just… never thought tennis could be this fun."

Mira blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. I mean, I thought it was all stiff and polite—like, y'know, the kind rich people do when they're bored."

"Wow," she deadpanned. "Didn't know you thought I was a rich girl."

"You're not?" he joked.

She rolled her eyes. "If I was, I'd hire a coach that didn't quote K-Dramas and yell 'Serve like you mean it!' every five seconds."

"True."

They laughed.

From across the court, Coach Tonton hollered, "NO FLIRTING ON THE BENCH!"

"We're not flirting!" Mira shouted back without missing a beat.

"We're barely talking!" Jomar added.

"Yet I smell romantic tension! Don't deny me this victory!"

Mira covered her face with both hands. "He needs help."

"Or therapy."

They both burst out laughing again, and the rest of the team chimed in with wolf whistles, teasing, and a chorus of "Ooohs" that would make a telenovela proud.

Jomar sighed. "Are they always like this?"

"Yes," Mira said, already used to it. "We're like a group chat that was made in hell but somehow works."

"Well, I guess… I'm glad I ended up in tennis."

"Even if you almost killed a volleyball player?"

He winced. "Even then."

A beat of silence passed. Mira looked at him with something different—less teasing, more thoughtful. She was quiet for a second, then smiled.

"Good," she said, standing up. "Because I think we make a good team."

Jomar blinked. "You mean… on the court?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Where else?"

"I—I mean, yeah. The court. Of course."

"Don't go catching feelings now," she warned with a grin. "We're just friends, remember?"

He saluted with a hand over his heart. "Just friends."

But the words felt heavier now. Like they didn't quite fit the way they did before.

They walked back together from the courts, racket bags slung over their shoulders. The sun was setting, and a breeze rustled through the coconut trees lining the path.

Jomar caught himself stealing glances at her more than once.

The way her ponytail swayed with each step. The bandage on her knee from a scrape she hadn't even mentioned. The way she occasionally hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening.

Was it possible to like someone this fast?

They'd only known each other for a few days, and yet… it already felt like he'd known her much longer.

He remembered what Dane said in the cafeteria:

"You ever think you might like her, bro?"

Back then, Jomar just laughed it off.

Now? Not so much.

Mira suddenly turned to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not quitting after the tryout."

"Huh?"

"You could've walked away after that first day. After how chaotic we all were. Most people would've."

Jomar grinned. "I'm not most people."

"That's good," she said. "You'd be boring if you were."

"Wow. Backhanded compliment."

"I play tennis. All my compliments are backhanded."

He laughed again. Loud and free and a little too happy for someone who just got smacked around in a mock match.

Later that night, Jomar sat at his desk in his room, staring at the ceiling with a half-written science worksheet next to him.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Mira.

MIRA: don't forget to bring water tmr or coach will make u run laps. again.

JOMAR: noted. also, i might get you a helmet in case i serve again.

MIRA: lol pls do. i value my skull.

He smiled at the screen for a long time.

Then he tossed his pen aside, leaned back, and whispered to himself:

"Just friends… huh?"