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MidReal Story
The Varsity Star
Scenario:First, my f-boy of an older brother, and second, his seriously hot best friend (who I seriously hate). This was a last resort. No one should be sleeping on a futon that smells like Cheetos and hot sweat. But here I am, trying to get my life together. Tristan Stiles is the bane of my existence. He never wears a shirt. We can't seem to stop fighting. He's an arrogant playboy with a filthy reputation. Sure, I had a crush on him when I was fourteen but that was a long time ago. I know better than to trust him. I just need to survive long enough to find a new job and get a new place. And not accidentally let Tristan show me exactly how well-deserved his reputation is.
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Maddie
determined, and sarcastic. Maddie is forced to move in with her brother and his friend, Tristan, after losing her apartment and spending all her money. She has a complicated history with Tristan, marked by unrequited teenage crushes and antagonistic interactions. Despite her dislike for Tristan, she finds herself drawn to him after a chance encounter leads to an unexpected connection, revealing hidden depths and sparking new possibilities.
Tristan Stiles
playful, and guarded. Known for his reputation as a player, Tristan struggles with trust and vulnerability after being hurt in a past relationship. He shares a small apartment with Maddie's brother and enjoys a carefree lifestyle. While he initially dislikes Maddie for crashing in his home, their proximity leads to escalating tension and unexpected moments of intimacy, revealing underlying attraction and hidden vulnerabilities.
I was never supposed to be the girl who ends up living with her older brother and his seriously hot best friend.
I mean, first, my brother is an f-boy.
He brought home a different girl every night because he has a fear of commitment.
I get it.
I don’t want to be tied down either.
But I’m not a hook-up girl.
I’m the girl who always plans ahead, has a life goal, and is working toward it.
And second, his seriously hot best friend is Tristan Stiles.
He’s the bane of my existence, and I’ll get into that later, but he’s one of those guys who knows he’s good-looking.
He has that smoldering hotness going on when he looks at you, and he doesn’t even have to try.
He’s also arrogant and untrustworthy, two traits I despise in a guy.
Sure, when I was fourteen, I had a crush on him.
Who wouldn’t?
He’s the hottest guy in school and later became the hottest guy in town.
But that was a long time ago, and I know better now.
Crushes are for kids.
I’m all grown up now.
Well … sort of.
I turn twenty-two next week, but that’s beside the point.
The point is that Tristan and I don’t get along.
At all.
I settle into my seat at the kitchen table, spread out my job applications, and open my laptop.
I need to update my resume, so I start tweaking a few bullet points and check the job sites.
I’ve been applying for weeks now, but no one has called me back.
I’m not sure why.
My resume is good, and I have plenty of experience.
Tristan cranks up his workout music, and I grab my noise-canceling headphones and plug them in.
He does another set of push-ups, his muscles rippling beneath his skin.
I try not to look at him, but it’s hard not to when he’s right there in front of me.
I force myself to focus on customizing cover letters for each job application.
After an hour of applying to jobs, I gather my things and head out the door.
I’m not going to let Tristan ruin my plans for the day.
I storm out of the apartment, laptop and papers clutched against my chest.
I’m so irritated that Tristan is obviously trying to distract me from my job search.
It’s late afternoon, and the sun beats down on my skin as I walk the three blocks to The Daily Grind, a local café that I like to frequent.
The air conditioning hits me as I open the door, and I breathe in the rich scent of coffee.
The place is quiet, with only a few people scattered about.
I claim my usual spot in the back corner, a worn leather armchair that’s perfect for working.
Amy, the barista, brings me my usual order without asking: an iced americano with an extra shot.
I spread out my papers across the small table and plug in my laptop.
I arrange my laptop, resume drafts, and job listings in a careful semi-circle on the worn wooden table.
The leather armchair creaks as I lean forward, scanning through Indeed.com postings for marketing positions in my area.
My iced americano sweats onto the napkin beside me while I type out another cover letter, this one for a junior copywriter role at a downtown agency.
The café’s indie playlist provides the perfect background noise – nothing like Tristan’s grunting workout sounds.
I pull up the job listing for Apex Marketing on my laptop screen, studying their requirements.
The position sounds perfect: entry level, creative work, and only two subway stops from the apartment.
I type out my first draft, highlighting my internship experience and the social media campaign I ran for the campus bookstore.
My fingers pause over the keyboard as I consider how to phrase my leadership skills.
The coffee shop’s calm atmosphere helps me concentrate as I refine each paragraph.
When Amy brings me a refill, I ask her opinion on my word choice.
"Amy, do you think 'spearheaded' sounds too aggressive for a social media campaign?" I ask, glancing up at her.
She smiles, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Not at all, it shows initiative—besides, didn't you say you got over a thousand new followers for them?"
I nod, feeling a bit more confident. "Yeah, and it led to a 20% increase in sales that month."
Amy leans against the counter, looking thoughtful. "Then maybe it's not just your resume; have you considered that Tristan might be sabotaging your efforts somehow?"
Her words catch me off guard, and I frown. "What do you mean? Why would he do that?"
Amy shrugs, but there's a knowing look in her eyes. "Sometimes people close to us have their own reasons for wanting things to stay the same."