The boys' locker room was thick with a humid fog, the steam from the showers clinging to the skin of athletes who carried the heavy legacy of VHS on their shoulders. Some stood naked, unbothered, while others kept towels slung low at their waists, their voices echoing off the tiles as they obsessively dissected the tryouts. VHS wasn't just a school; it was a pro-athlete factory, and the pressure to reach the finals—not just the playoffs—was a physical weight in the room.
Among them was Travis. He moved with a quiet, sculpted confidence, a dark-skinned powerhouse with a profile for the West African examinations that mentioned nothing of basketball, yet his "mad skills" on the court had already set him apart. As he slammed his locker shut and pulled on fresh sweatpants, he tried to tune out the noise, his intention simple: say hi, get to his car, and focus on his fresh start.
But the conversation around him turned bitter. "All because she's hot, she thinks every guy will be underneath her spell," one player sneered, thinking of Cherry.
Travis knew who they meant—the girl from class who had looked at him with such intensity. She was stunning, but his past at his old school made him wary. He didn't want to be the "nice boy" or the friend; he wanted to survive his exams.
The talk got uglier. "Cherry is so hot to be a journalist, she should be a porn star or something," another chimed in.
"How about your sister, won't you mind?" Amole shot back, his voice sharp with defense.
"Easy man, it was just a joke. Anyway, we both know Green dumped her," the player laughed, though the room stayed cold.
Green, the captain, didn't hide his disdain. He claimed Cherry was "despicable" and had tried to kill him before his time. When Amole tried to be inclusive, reaching out a hand to Travis, Green looked away, making his disapproval loud without saying a word.
"Travis," the newcomer said shortly, shaking Amole's hand but ignoring Green's chill.
When Amole invited him to dinner across the street where the girls hang out, Travis didn't blink. "Nah, I'm good. I'm not the type that talks about girls, so I will pass."
The rest burst into laughter, but Travis had the final word for the captain: "At least I'm not the bitch that is proud he dumped the hottest girl in school."
He walked out before the punch could fly, leaving Green seething and Amole calling him a "pig" for his attitude.
Meanwhile, in the school office, Cherry was battling her own regret. She had let her focus on Travis show too much in her writing, making it look like a paid ad. Her best friend Sam—the "hot" Sam—wasn't helping, drooling over Travis's jawline while they scrolled through his socials. His Instagram was all overpriced private school vibes, and his TikTok was strictly basketball. He followed no one. He was a Golden Crown fan, obsessed with Steph Curry, and clearly uninterested in distractions.
"I know why he dislikes me," Cherry muttered, realizing Travis was intentionally ignoring the fact that he had saved her life once.
Back home, the atmosphere was different. Living with Monalisa, a wealthy and dangerous thirty-one-year-old detective, meant living in a house of secrets. Cherry was fighting to stay clean from molly and weed, but she found blood on paper towels and empty whiskey bottles in the trash. Monalisa was drowning her own demons while hunting Cherry's father.
Over a dinner of spaghetti and Diet Coke, Cherry made a choice. She told Lisa she was going to "work with Travis" to cover his career. It was a lie, or at least a half-truth. She needed to get his attention, remind him of who she was, and then walk away. It was a simple plan: ABCD.
But as she brushed out her extensions and looked at his silent TikTok feed, she knew nothing about Travis was going to be simple.