The sound of the whistle cut through the air as the game began. Max jogged into position, his teammates spreading out around him. The gym was alive with noise, cheers, shouts, and the constant squeak of sneakers on the court. Max tensed his jaw, locking eyes with Ryan across the court.
The ball was tossed into the air, and Ryan’s team attained control. Max’s heart pounded as he fell into position, tracking the ball as it bounced between players. His job was clear: stop Ryan.
Ryan dribbled down the court with a speed that reminded Max why they’d been such a killer duo before things fell apart. Ryan had always been fast, but Max wasn’t going to let him have this moment. Not tonight.
“Better keep up, Loverboy,” Ryan mocked as he rushed past.
Max didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Instead, he tightened his focus, turning hard to block Ryan’s path. He was on him in seconds, sticking close, his feet mirroring Ryan’s every move.
“Not happening,” Max yapped, swiping at the ball. Ryan barely managed to hold onto it, passing it off to a teammate just before Max’s hand connected.
The crowd roared as the ball sailed across the court. Max sprinted after it, his mind clearing as adrenaline took over. This was his element playing, pushing, winning.
A Brief Distraction
By halftime, Max was dripping with sweat, but they were ahead by six points. He grabbed his water bottle from the bench, chugging it down as Coach shouted adjustments for the second half.
Max glanced toward the bleachers without thinking, and there he was Jaxon, still sitting in the same spot, sketchbook in hand. But he wasn’t drawing. He was watching again, his eyes locked on Max like he was trying to figure something out.
It wasn’t like Jaxon to stare usually, he kept his head down, ignored everything, and focused on whatever art project he had going. But now? Max felt the weight of that gaze like it was burning a hole in his jersey.
“Yo, Max!” Tyler struck him on the back, snapping him out of it. “You good, man? You were zoning out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Max mumbled, setting the bottle down and brushing past him. “Let’s finish this.”
The Final Play
The second half was brutal. Ryan was relentless, driving the ball down the court with precision and speed. Max could feel the strain in his legs as he chased him, sweat dripping into his eyes.
“Not bad, Loverboy,” Ryan said with a smirk as he spun past him. “But you’re not taking this win.”
Max gritted his teeth and lunged, blocking Ryan’s shot with a loud slap. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced into Tyler’s hands.
“Go!” Max yelled, pointing to the basket.
Tyler took off, dodging defenders and scoring with a clean layup. The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game.
Cheers erupted as Max’s team huddled together, celebrating their victory. But even as his teammates slapped him on the back and shouted his name, Max found himself glancing toward the bleachers.
Jaxon was gone.
He looked around the gym, scanning the crowd, but there was no sign of him.
“Yo, Max, let’s go!” Tyler called, pulling him toward the locker room.
Max nodded, but his mind was already somewhere else.
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