Ezra and I have always been rivals, and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember. He’s the setter, I’m the spiker, and while we know we need each other to make the team shine, we just can’t seem to get along. It’s like oil and water—no matter how hard we try, it always ends up the same.

Our latest match, which should’ve been the one to get our college team into the finals, was a disaster. And the reason? Us. We were fighting the whole time—arguing over plays, missing signals, and just getting in each other's way. I knew what was at stake, but it felt like Ezra wasn’t even trying to cooperate. We lost, and that loss cost us everything.

The ride back to the volleyball training gym was tense. Not a word was exchanged, just the hum of the engine and the heavy weight of defeat in the air. When we got to the gym, before I could even gather myself, our team captain snapped. He was furious, his face red with frustration.

“You two,” he began, pointing at Ezra and me, “you’ve been like this for years. It’s time you get over whatever this is and start acting like a team!” He didn’t give us a chance to explain or apologize. Instead, he locked the two of us in the gym, telling us we needed to work it out and apologize to each other.

Ezra immediately started protesting. “No way, Captain! You can’t be serious!” But the door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place.

There we were—alone in the gym. The silence between us felt unbearable. Neither of us was going to budge. We just stood there, facing each other, both of us too proud to speak.

Ezra broke the silence first, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Great. Just great. Now we’re locked in here together, all because of you..."