After the noise in the stadium had died down, Alaric stepped off the court with a gait far more relaxed than before. The cheers had faded, replaced by the sounds of spectators heading home, the chatter of event staff cleaning up, and a few lingering laughs from groups of students.
Inside, he felt a mix of exhaustion and contentment, even though the game hadn't ended in victory. He knew his team had given it everything.
Alaric made his way to the Westminster campus restroom to change clothes. The scent of the court. Sweat, wood from the flooring, and the unmistakable smell of the game, still clung to his skin. As he entered the room, he slung his bag onto one of the hooks, then peeled off his Northvale team jersey.
His reflection in the mirror stared back at him. Tired. A sheen of sweat still covered his forehead. He wiped it away with his shirt, turned on the faucet, and cupped cold water in his hands.
