Crossed Lines

Eli

The Timber Dome smelled like floor polish and adrenaline, and the sound of squeaking sneakers against hardwood made my blood pump faster. This was home. This was where I belonged.

"Moore, shift left! You're out of position!" Coach Ortega's voice snapped me back to the play.

I adjusted without thinking, sliding into position just as Levi fired a pass my way. I caught it, planted my feet, and pivoted. One dribble, one step, and I was airborne. The ball rolled off my fingertips, and when it hit nothing but net, I grinned.

"Nice shot Cap!" Levi yelled, jogging past me with that trademark swagger.

I gave him a quick nod, my chest heaving. "You'd better step it up, Jackson. Scouts don't care about assists."

Levi scoffed. "Yeah, sure, big man. Let's see you dunk, then we'll talk."

Noah, sprawled across the bleachers with an ice pack on his ankle, chimed in. "Both of you shut up. You're embarrassing yourselves. And me, by association."

I rolled my eyes, jogging back into position. This was how it always was—trash talk, jokes, and the occasional reality check from Noah. But deep down, we all knew we had each other's backs.

Coach blew the whistle. "Alright, bring it in!"

We huddled around him, a mass of sweat and exhaustion. I glanced around at the guys—Levi, our shooting guard, always hyped and ready to fight anyone for the ball. Noah, our tall ass center, who somehow managed to be both the most sarcastic and the smartest guy on the team. Connor, our small forward, quiet but deadly accurate from anywhere on the court. And Alex, our power forward, who never stopped cracking jokes, even when he should.

"Now there's a reason why I called another practice. We only have four days til we meet Hartford again," Coach started, pacing in front of us. "They're big, fast, and they know how to get under your skin. But you know what we've got?"

"Brains?" Alex muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from Noah.

"Teamwork," Coach shot back, his glare making it clear he wasn't in the mood for jokes. "You've got each other. That's what sets us apart, and that's how we're going to beat them this year."

I nodded along with the rest of the team, feeling that familiar mix of pressure and pride settle over me. This game wasn't just about Hartford. It was about proving we were the best.

"Hartford is bigger, faster, and meaner than anyone we've faced this season. They will come back to crush us no matter what.

 The energy in the huddle shifted. Hartford wasn't just a team—they were the team. Their school poured money into basketball, recruiting the biggest guys, the flashiest players. And their fans? Relentless. They made every game against us personal.

I clenched my fists, the memory of last year's game flickering in my head. Hartford's center had shoved Levi so hard he hit the ground, and the ref hadn't even blown the whistle.

"This isn't just a game," Coach continued. "It's about pride. Cedar Ridge doesn't back down."

Coach stopped pacing, looking us all in the eye. "If you want this win, you're going to have to earn it. They're coming for blood."

As we broke the huddle and headed for the locker room, the tension lingered in the air. Malik nudged me with his elbow.

"You ready for the circus?" he asked.

I snorted. "Always. What about you? Think you can handle their fans?"

Levi grinned. "I'm looking forward to shutting them up. Let's see them trash-talk when we drop thirty on those fuckers."

The locker room was its usual mix of noise and chaos. Alex was sprawled across one of the benches, arguing with Connor about the best pre-game music. Noah sat on the edge of a chair, his ankle wrapped, muttering about how Hartford's players were basically linebackers.

I slumped onto a bench, grabbing my phone. There was a text from Mina.

Mina: How's practice? Don't let Hartford psych you out."

I smiled. Mina didn't know much about basketball, but she knew enough to get why this game mattered.

"So," Alex pops up next to me, peeking at my phone. "What's the deal with you and Mina?"

I froze for half a second, "What do you mean?"

Alex smirked. "Oh, come on. Everyone sees it. You're always together. Don't tell me there's nothing there."

"She's my best friend," I said, trying to keep my voice even. If she finds out I like her, our whole relationship will be ruined. I am not risking that. 

"Uh-huh." Alex leaned back, looking way too smug. "Look, we love Mina, she's cool. Just don't let it mess with your head during the game. We need you focused."

I shot him a look. "I'm always focused."

"Sure, man," Alex said, patting my shoulder before walking off.

I stayed behind after everyone else had cleared out, sitting in the quiet of the locker room. I didn't have time for distractions—not Mina, not anyone. This game was too important. 

As captain, it's my job to make sure everyone's ready, mentally and physically. That means keeping the energy high, making sure we stay focused, and making sure no one cracks under the pressure.

Being captain comes with its own set of responsibilities. More than just leading the team on the court, it's about setting the tone off it. It's a lot of weight to carry, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Every play, every move, every word matters. When I speak, they listen. When I lead, they follow. I have to set the example—not just with my skills but with how I carry myself. If I can't stay calm, how can I expect them to?

Still, as I grabbed my bag and stepped outside into the cool night air, I couldn't stop myself from checking my phone.

Mina: Good luck, Timberwolf. I'm rooting for you.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Maybe Alex wasn't completely wrong. But for now, I had to push that thought aside. Hartford was waiting, and I wasn't about to let them take us down.