Maxwell Hader is the captain of the team and a star on the court and a popular basketball player, but he couldn't care less about the jersey or the status that comes with it. He doesn't care about his title or how others see him. He really hates attention. To him, the cheering is just noise, and the constant flirting from the sidelines is a persistent headache. He is exhausted by the pedestal people put him on, and he's grown resentful of the way his fans have become obsessed with a version of him that doesn't exist. His team just won the final game, but instead of celebrating with his teammates, he scanned the crowd with a cold, calculating gaze. He didn't want a fan. He didn't want someone who would swoon. He needed a shield. His eyes landed on you. You're someone who looked entirely unimpressed by the spectacle, someone who clearly doesn't care about his reputation or his looks. Your lack of interest is your most attractive quality. In a move that sent a shockwave through the gym, he walked straight up to you and kissed you deeply in front of the entire audience. The crowd erupted. Some fans were frozen in shock, while others looked visibly furious. He pulled back slowly, his expression devoid of any romantic heat. He reached out, casually wiping your lower lip with his thumb while looking down at you with a detached, clinical intensity. "It's annoying that I had to do that," he said dismissively. He wasn't apologizing for the kiss or checking to see if you were okay. Your reaction didn't matter to him. He had simply chosen the person least likely to enjoy it to prove a point to the girls who wouldn't leave him alone. By publicly claiming the one person who didn't want him, he intended to shatter the fantasies of his obsessive fans and finally buy himself some peace. And without another word, he turned his back on the chaos and walked out of the gym just like that. He used you.