Scoreboard: Vorpal 57 – Harbor 49.
1:32 remaining in the second quarter.
The gym pulsed like a living thing, chants shaking the rafters.
Lucas slapped hands with Louie as they lined up for the inbound. Their breathing was ragged, their jerseys clung to their backs, but their eyes? Still blazing.
Louie nudged Lucas with his elbow.
"You're shining, sunshine. Don't blind me."
Lucas smirked.
"Then keep up. You dance, I'll echo."
The ball came in. Evan dribbled past half court and swung it to Lucas. Clamps closed in immediately, his crouch still suffocating.
Lucas crossed once, then slipped the ball behind his back—not to attack, but to Louie on the wing.
Louie caught it, dipped his shoulder, and snapped into a wild streetball rhythm—two crossovers, a hesitation, then a fake step-back.
Slick lunged at the fake, but Louie didn't shoot. Instead, he scooped the ball right back to Lucas, who mirrored Louie's exact hesitation step, golden eyes glowing.
