The coach looked back and forth between Ethan and Jayden, who were still glaring daggers at each other. The tension between them filled the air. He could practically feel the heat of their silent challenge radiating across the gym.
Jayden's proposal to go head-to-head with Ethan echoed in the coach's mind. At first, he thought it was reckless. But when he thought about it again, it did make sense. If those two didn't confront each other directly, they might never learn to work together.
Their egos would always get in the way, poisoning the team's chemistry before the season even began. Still, the coach didn't want to encourage unnecessary conflict without hearing Ethan's thoughts first.
He turned toward him and asked calmly, "Ethan, what do you think of Jayden's suggestion? Do you want to take up his offer and play against him?"
Jayden smirked before Ethan could answer. "Of course he won't," he said, his tone smug. "All he knows how to do is talk big and throw jabs at other people's play."
Ethan's lips curled into a faint, cold smile. "What makes you think I'm afraid of you?" he said, his voice low but steady. "You really believe you can beat me? Fine. Let's play."
The coach nodded slowly, relieved that Ethan had accepted but also nervous about how intense this was about to get. "Alright," he said firmly, blowing his whistle once. "First to eleven points wins."
Both young men nodded without a word and started moving toward the court. Their teammates gathered near the sidelines beside the coach, watching silently. Most of them exchanged knowing glances—they all believed Ethan would win.
He was their captain, their "Ice Prince." Calm, composed, unshakable. Jayden might be talented, but in their minds, Ethan was untouchable. Deep down, every one of them secretly hoped Ethan would knock Jayden down a peg or two, just to remind him who ruled the court.
Ethan caught Jayden's gaze from across the court. His eyes were cold and unreadable, his expression carved in stone. He held the ball in his hands, his stance calm but firm. The coach blew the whistle again, signaling the start.
Ethan began with possession. He bounced the ball slowly, his movements controlled and precise. The faint squeak of his sneakers echoed through the gym. His gaze never wavered. That emotionless focus, that quiet intensity, was exactly why people called him the Ice Prince.
Jayden crouched slightly, ready to block him. Ethan dribbled left, then shifted right. Jayden followed his movement carefully, but Ethan's speed was deceptive. With a sudden, fluid motion, Ethan faked a move to the left, then slipped past Jayden on the right side. His movements were so sharp that Jayden barely had time to react.
Ethan sprinted toward the hoop, the ball bouncing rhythmically against the polished floor. Before Jayden could recover, Ethan jumped and flicked the ball upward with smooth precision. It hit the backboard, kissed the rim, and dropped cleanly through the net.
Cheers erupted from the sidelines. "Ice Prince! Ice Prince!" the team chanted excitedly. Their captain had drawn first blood.
Jayden, however, just snickered. "It's just one point," he said coolly, brushing the sweat from his brow. "You guys celebrate too early."
Ethan turned back to him, his face still calm but his voice sharp. "Then keep talking, Jayden. You might as well keep running that mouth until I beat you back to where you came from."
The coach blew the whistle again. "Round two. Jayden's ball."
Jayden caught the ball with one hand and began dribbling, his gaze locked on Ethan. There was a new glint in his eyes—one that mixed focus and defiance. Ethan matched his look, his stance ready, reading Jayden's every move.
Then, without warning, Jayden exploded forward. His sudden burst of speed caught everyone off guard—even Ethan. The ball moved like lightning between his hands. Ethan regained his composure in an instant and stepped in to block, but Jayden spun sharply, sliding right past him. In a single motion, Jayden jumped and sent the ball flying. It slammed neatly through the net.
A murmur rippled through the team.
They didn't like Jayden—his arrogance rubbed them the wrong way—but none of them could deny his skill. His play was wild but effective.
Ethan's brows furrowed slightly. Jayden was still grinning when he said, "Your move."
The game went on. Back and forth they played, each refusing to give the other an inch. The squeaks of their sneakers and the thuds of the ball filled the court. Every point raised the tension a little higher.
Ethan stayed steady, calm as always. His plays were clean and efficient, built on timing and control. His movements were fluid and deliberate,he was like someone who had repeated each drill thousands of times. Every motion had purpose, every pass and pivot honoured by hours of practice both on the Field and mentally.
Jayden, on the other hand, played like a storm. His movements were quick, his instincts sharp. He didn't follow patterns—he just reacted, trusting his body to do the work. He darted, twisted, and took risks that would make most players hesitate. And yet, somehow, they worked.
Point after point, they traded blows, neither able to gain the upper hand. The score climbed to ten all.
Ethan's calm expression hid the tension coiling in his chest. He couldn't believe Jayden had managed to tie with him. He'd expected to crush him—to make it so clear that Jayden wouldn't dare challenge him again. But now, it wasn't looking so certain.
The realization hit him hard. If he lost, it wouldn't just be a game. It would be his pride. His authority. The team's trust in him. Everything he'd built as their captain could crumble. Losing would mean Jayden was better—and that Ethan's criticism of him earlier had come from arrogance, not skill.
That thought alone made Ethan's heart pound faster. He couldn't allow it.
He drew in a deep breath, forcing the panic down. His expression remained the same—cold and unreadable—but the fire inside him burned brighter. He needed to win. No matter what.
On the sidelines, his teammates whispered among themselves. Some looked tense, others clasped their hands together as if silently praying. They had never seen anyone push Ethan this far.
The coach, however, could sense what no one else could—the desperation behind Ethan's still face. He could feel the silent storm building inside his captain. But he also knew he couldn't interfere. Ethan had to win this fight himself. If he stepped in now, it would only weaken Ethan's standing in front of the team.
As much as he wanted Jayden to join them, he also knew this wasn't the time for Ethan to lose to a newcomer. Not today. And definitely not like this.
So, the coach stayed silent, his heart thudding as he watched the two circle each other again.
Jayden made his move first. With a quick twist, he managed to steal the ball from Ethan's grip. Gasps echoed across the court. Ethan's eyes snapped toward him, sharp as ice. Jayden smirked, clutching the ball as he charged forward.
He was determined to end it right here—with a powerful, decisive shot that would silence everyone. His sneakers pounded against the floor as he sprinted toward the hoop.
Ethan moved instantly, instincts taking over. He stepped into Jayden's path, blocking his route to the basket. His eyes locked on Jayden's every move.
Jayden gritted his teeth, refusing to slow down. He jumped high, lifting the ball in a final, confident motion.
And at that exact moment, Ethan jumped too.