Picking Up Girls With My Pickup System-Chapter 7: Trouble In The Locker Room.

The gym echoed with squeaking sneakers, the sharp thud of basketballs, and Coach Randall’s whistle, which could probably break glass if blown indoors.

Kent jogged half-heartedly down the court, already winded. Gym had always been his personal circle of hell—sweat, humiliation, and Derek Mason breathing down his neck like a predator circling prey.

"Pick it up, Gilbert!" Coach barked. "You run like you’re allergic to movement!"

A few guys snickered. Derek, naturally, was in the middle of it all, dribbling effortlessly before slamming a shot into the hoop. His lackeys whooped.

Kent muttered, "Show-off."

The System’s window flickered into view.

[Physical Endurance Stat: 8 → 9. Slight improvement detected.]

Kent blinked. "Wait. Did... did gym actually just level me up?"

[Affirmative. Even the Host’s pitiful exercise attempts contribute to stat growth.]

"Pitiful? I’m trying here!" Kent wheezed as he stumbled back into position.

He caught sight of Derek across the court, staring at him. Not the usual passing sneer—no, this was sharper. Measuring.

Kent’s stomach sank. He knows. He’s watching me now.

The ball bounced his way. Pure reflex had him catch it. A second of disbelief froze him in place—then Derek was suddenly in front of him, looming tall, smirk locked in place.

"C’mon, Gilbert," Derek drawled. "Show us what you got."

Kent’s palms were slick against the ball. Everyone was looking. If he screwed up, he’d be the laughingstock again.

The System chimed in:

[Minor Quest: Attempt the Shot.]

[Reward: +1 Confidence if successful.]

[Failure Penalty: -1 Confidence.]

Kent’s throat tightened. "Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me..."

******

The squeal of sneakers and Coach Randall’s barking orders finally gave way to the blessed sound of the end-of-class whistle. Kent had barely survived. His "attempted shot" had ricocheted off the backboard like a meteor and nearly brained Todd, Derek’s buzz-cut lackey. The laughter still echoed in Kent’s ears as he trudged toward the locker room.

At least the System had been merciful enough not to dock too much.

[Minor Quest Failed.]

[Confidence -1.]

Kent muttered, "Figures. Even with alien tech, I suck."

The locker room was a humid haze of deodorant spray and damp towels. Kent headed for his corner, praying he could just change and slip out unnoticed. But as he peeled his sweaty shirt off, the air shifted.

Derek’s voice cut through the chatter like a blade. "Hey, Gilbert."

Kent froze. Slowly, he turned.

Derek leaned against the lockers with all the lazy menace of a lion who already knew the gazelle wasn’t getting away. Todd and the other lackey flanked him, grinning like hyenas.

"You’ve been real funny lately," Derek said, stepping closer. "Think you’re some kinda comedian?"

Kent’s mouth went dry. "I—uh—no. Just... saying stuff."

Derek’s smirk sharpened. "Stuff like making Chloe blush?"

The words were soft, but they carried. A few guys nearby paused mid-change, glancing over. Heat crawled up Kent’s neck.

He raised his hands, palms out. "Look, man, it wasn’t—"

Derek slammed a palm against the locker beside Kent’s head, the metal rattling like a gunshot. Kent flinched hard.

"You think you can just talk to whoever you want now? Like you matter?" Derek’s eyes bored into him, all amusement gone.

Kent’s heart hammered. The System had made him bold before, but here? With Derek’s shadow towering over him and half the team watching? He felt small again. Very small.

And that’s when the System spoke up.

[New Quest Generated: Stand Your Ground.]

[Objective: Do not fold under Derek’s intimidation.]

[Reward: +3 Confidence.]

[Failure Penalty: -3 Confidence.]

Kent nearly swore aloud. Stand my ground? Against Derek?! That’s not a quest, that’s a suicide note!

Kent’s pulse thudded in his ears. Derek loomed inches away, the locker vibrating from his shove. The stink of sweat, deodorant, and testosterone filled the cramped space.

And floating in Kent’s vision, clear as day:

[Quest Active: Stand Your Ground.]

[Failure Penalty: -3 Confidence. Warning: If Confidence drops below 5, Host may enter "Social Collapse" state.]

Kent’s eyes widened. Social collapse?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?

[Definition: Host becomes unable to speak coherently to targets of attraction. Recovery period: 30 days.]

"Thirty days?!" he hissed under his breath. "That’s—my entire life would be—"

Derek slammed the locker again, rattling Kent’s teeth. "What’s that, Gilbert? Talking to yourself? You do that a lot lately."

Kent swallowed hard. Every instinct screamed at him to apologize, duck, and slide away. But the Quest timer ticked in the corner of his vision—counting down from thirty seconds.

[29...28...27...]

His palms were slick. He could feel the eyes of the locker room drilling into his back, guys waiting to see if Kent would fold like always.

"Cat got your tongue?" Derek leaned in closer, his voice a low growl. "Here’s a hint: when I talk to you, you nod and say, ’Yes, Derek.’ Got it?"

The timer hit fifteen seconds. Kent’s chest tightened like a vice.

I can’t do this. I can’t stand up to him.

[Incorrect. You will. Assistance activated: Cheeky Remark.]

The warmth surged through him, seizing his tongue. His own voice betrayed him, sharper, louder than he ever would’ve dared:

"Funny. I didn’t realize your hobbies included obsessing over me."

The room went dead silent.

Kent’s stomach plummeted. Oh no. Oh no no no.

For a heartbeat, the locker room froze. Even the hiss of the showers seemed to hush, as if the pipes themselves were waiting to hear Derek’s reaction.

Kent stood stiff, eyes wide, wishing he could grab his own words out of the air and stuff them back into his mouth.

Then—laughter.

Not Derek’s.

Todd snorted, then tried to cover it with a cough. Another guy near the benches barked out a chuckle. In seconds, the sound spread like wildfire.

"Damn, Gilbert!" someone hollered.

"Yo, he actually said that to Derek!"

Kent felt his stomach lurch. They weren’t laughing at him. For once, they were laughing with him.

Derek’s smirk dissolved. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing like a storm gathering fast.

"What’d you say?" His voice was quiet now, too quiet, but Kent heard the fury under it.

The System dinged cheerfully.

[Quest Progress: Success. +2 Confidence.]

Kent wanted to scream at it. You’re going to get me killed!

Derek shoved him hard against the locker. The metal banged against Kent’s spine, the sting spreading through his back.

"You think you’re funny?" Derek’s voice was a razor’s edge now. His hand curled into Kent’s shirt, twisting the fabric. "You think you can embarrass me in front of my guys?"

The laughter around them faltered into nervous silence. No one wanted to be in the blast zone when Derek blew.

Kent’s legs trembled, but he forced himself not to break eye contact. His lips parted, and before he could stop it, the System pushed again—

[Assisted Line Generated.]

"You’re doing a good job embarrassing yourself."

The words dropped like a grenade.

Gasps, a muffled laugh, someone whispering, "Oh shit—"

Derek’s face flushed red. His fist cocked back. Kent braced for impact—

Derek’s fist hovered in the air, veins standing out along his forearm, his face twisted with fury. Kent shut his eyes tight.

Then—

SLAM!

The locker room door banged open. "What the hell’s going on in here?!"

Coach Randall’s voice cut through the tension like a chainsaw. The laughter and whispers scattered instantly. A couple of guys fumbled with towels and shirts, suddenly pretending they hadn’t just been watching a public execution.

Derek froze, jaw clenched, his fist still balled in Kent’s shirt. Slowly—very slowly—he lowered it, releasing Kent with a shove.

"Nothing, Coach," Derek said smoothly, like he’d been caught tying his shoes. "Just some locker room talk. Right, Gilbert?"

Kent staggered, nearly tripping over a bench. "Y-Yeah. Just talk." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Coach’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t buying it, but he wasn’t looking to babysit either. "Get dressed and get the hell out. Now."

The guys scrambled. Derek lingered long enough to shoot Kent a look, the kind of glare that promised this wasn’t over. His voice dropped to a low growl, audible only to Kent.

"You’re dead next time."

Then he walked off, his lackeys trailing behind.

Kent sagged against the lockers, legs shaking.

The System’s cheerful chime filled his vision.

[Quest Complete: Stand Your Ground.]

[Reward: +3 Confidence.]

[Bonus Reward: +1 Strength for surviving physical threat.]

Kent laughed weakly, though it came out more like a broken wheeze. "Yeah, real funny. Nearly got my skull cracked open."

[Correction: Host’s skull remained intact. Victory achieved.]

Kent dragged a hand down his face. "I’m so screwed..."

But beneath the terror, something new pulsed in his chest—an unfamiliar thrill.

For the first time, Derek had not crushed him.

And the whole locker room had seen it.