Playing With The Star

The whistle shrieked, signaling the end of the game. My team erupted, rushing onto the court. Finals were ours. I felt the surge of victory, a familiar high that made all the hard work worth it.

Later, the smell of baking blueberry muffins filled the kitchen, a welcome distraction as I painstakingly edited my English essay. The timer buzzed, pulling me away from my screen just as I finished a sentence.

I was humming the song in my headphones, pulling the warm tray from the oven, when a thunderous stomping descended the stairs. Elephants, I swear.

Nick's head peeked around the wall, a wicked grin already forming. I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what was coming. "How nice of you to make my favorite!" he declared, his gaze fixed on the muffins, then on the one already in my hand. Before I could react, he snatched it.