"Loser runs laps," Lynn said, tying her hair into a loose ponytail. Her eyes were locked on Alex, who leaned against the wall spinning the basketball between his hands like it was part of him.
"You always start with threats?" he asked, amused.
"Only when I know I'm going to win."
Gallagher stood by the sidelines, holding his phone like a referee with no whistle. "Do we want rules or are we just going full streetball?"
"First to seven," Lynn said. "One point per basket. No fouls unless someone gets dramatic."
Fanshia, Dianne, Sam, Peter, and even Harden had settled on the bleachers to watch. Dianne already had her phone out, recording. Peter was loudly placing mock bets with Sam.
"Ten bucks on Lynn!" Dianne called out.
"Make it twenty," Gallagher added. "She plays mean."
Peter laughed. "Nah. Alex looks like he's hiding some moves. You know the quiet ones always pull out something wild."
Alex passed the ball to Lynn. "You really play often?"
She dribbled once, twice, then spun it around her back like it was part of her. "You'll see."
Their eyes locked.
The room hushed.
And then the game began.
Lynn moved fast—cutting angles, faking left then darting right. She got the first basket with a clean layup. The crowd clapped, half-serious, half-shocked.
"One-zero," she said, passing the ball to him.
Alex grinned. "So it's like that?"
"Oh, it's exactly like that."
His turn.
He didn't rush. He studied her stance, then slid past her with a swift crossover. Basket. Net swish. One-one.
Fanshia leaned over to Dianne. "This is the most romantic basketball game I've ever witnessed."
"They're literally flirting through footwork," Dianne whispered.
Point by point, the game became a dance. Fast, sharp, breathless. Neither of them held back. There was laughter when someone tripped, mock insults tossed mid-play, tension you could cut with a knife.
Four-four.
Then five-five.
They were both sweating now, hearts pounding, eyes never leaving each other.
On the next play, Lynn faked a drive and spun around Alex, scoring with a smooth underhanded shot.
"Six-five," she said, chest rising.
Alex wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie. "You're dangerous."
"You just figured that out?"
He grabbed the ball. "One more point. Let's see what you've got."
She grinned. "Hope you're ready."
But something shifted.
As they circled each other on the court, there was less teasing, more focus. This was no longer just a game. It had become a challenge. A dare.
She tried to steal.
He faked right.
She stumbled.
And in one clean move, Alex jumped and banked the shot in.
Six-six.
Tied.
The room erupted.
Even Harden raised an eyebrow.
Peter let out a low whistle. "This is way better than first period."
Dianne whispered, "My girl's going to murder him with her stare."
And she might've.
Because Lynn turned, slowly, locking eyes with Alex like she was choosing violence and romance at the same time.
"Last point," she said, voice low.
He nodded. "Let's finish it."
She took the ball and moved—fast, sharp, relentless.
But Alex was right there, matching her step for step. He reached.
And then—
She faked a shot and twisted, slipping past him—
But he reached out, hand grabbing her waist to steady her as she nearly lost balance—
For half a second, the game paused.
Their bodies close.
Breath mingling.
Her hand pressed to his chest.
The ball forgotten, rolling toward the bleachers.
Lynn looked up into his eyes and forgot the score.
Forgot the crowd.
Forgot everything except the fact that this—this electricity, this tension, this moment—felt like the edge of something she wasn't ready to jump off but couldn't resist.
Alex swallowed hard. "We're still tied."
"I know," she whispered.
"Want to keep playing?"
"Not the game we started."
He smiled, barely.
Then he let go of her waist—reluctantly—and stepped back.
Gallagher cleared his throat dramatically. "So… who won?"
Fanshia shouted, "Romance won!"
Sam grinned. "Let them call it a draw."
Lynn picked up the ball and tossed it at Alex. He caught it easily.
"Next time," she said, heading toward the bleachers, "I win for real."
He watched her go, then turned to the others.
"I let her have it."
Peter laughed. "Sure you did, loverboy."
As Lynn sat between Dianne and Fanshia, both of them whispering excited questions, she leaned back and exhaled.
It wasn't just a crush anymore.
It was a storm.
And it had only just started. Lll