Pinned by the Team Captain

The bathroom door creaked open, and there stood Ryan Lowell mid-stream at the toilet. My cheeks burned as I ducked my head, pretending I hadn't seen anything, and tried to quietly retreat. But then came the telltale shake, the zipper sound, and suddenly his piercing gaze locked onto mine.

"For fairness," he deadpanned, "now it's your turn to pee."

Yesterday marked the end of my little brother Ethan's basketball training camp. I'd hauled myself into the city with a suitcase full of his clean clothes, feeling every bit the country mouse.

"Sophia, I talked to the captain," Ethan huffed, muscles straining as he lugged my suitcase upstairs. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. "He's cool with you crashing in the guest room. Free of charge."

I bit my lip, staring at my scuffed sneakers. "Won't your captain... think less of you? Am I making you look bad?"

Since Grandma passed, it's just been Ethan and me against the world. Thank God he turned out right - never gave me half the trouble most teens do. But sometimes I wish he wasn't quite so grown up. The kid had secretly switched to sports scholarships without telling me, all because the team covered meals, housing, and threw in a few hundred per game.

"Are you kidding?" Ethan's grin could've powered the city grid. "Sophia, you're the gold standard of sisters. These guys are just jealous."

Looking at my sweet, too-mature-for-his-age brother, I felt the familiar sting behind my eyes. If I'd finished school, if I could land a real job, Ethan wouldn't have to trade textbooks for basketballs. He could've been the scholar he was meant to be. I wouldn't be this burden, crashing in spare rooms while he crammed into some overcrowded dorm.

The coach's call snapped me from my thoughts, sending Ethan scrambling. I busied myself cleaning - scrubbing the living room, organizing the guest space, carefully unfolding and refolding every item in Ethan's suitcase like each t-shirt deserved museum display.