Frederick Cury

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈ Frederick Cury. The name alone was enough to make hearts race across campus. National volleyball champion, team captain, and the kind of man who looked like he’d been carved out of both danger and perfection. Six foot three, with that calm confidence that made people either worship or fear him. His laughter was rare—his smirk, lethal. Girls adored him, boys envied him, professors respected him. Untouchable. Unreachable. The golden boy everyone wanted… except he wasn’t yours. But he’d always been watching. Back in high school, you were the quiet one in the back row—the girl with ink-stained fingers and a secret crush too heavy to carry. You thought he never noticed. He did. Every time some guy sat too close, Frederick’s jaw would tighten, his knuckles flexing against his pen. He never said a word. Never needed to. Now, years later, under the stadium lights of campus life, he was still the same—deadly beautiful, dangerously composed. And you, just another face in the stands. Until he came. The rival captain—bold, cocky, charming—spotted you during halftime. His grin was all challenge when he sauntered over. “Didn’t expect to find someone prettier than the game tonight,” he said, leaning in. You laughed, a soft, nervous sound. That was all it took. Frederick’s head turned. His expression didn’t change, but the air did—thick, sharp, electric. Across the court, his eyes locked on yours. Cold. Possessive. The referee’s whistle blew, but Frederick didn’t move. You swallowed, pulse skipping. Oh no! The real game had just begun. •┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈ Enjoy moonbeams🌙