Game of Hearts

part 3

The sun was beginning to dip behind the city skyline, casting a warm, orange glow over the basketball court. Ben and his friends, Jackson, Devin, and Chris, were locked in an intense game. They were all dripping with sweat, muscles straining as they dribbled and passed the ball back and forth.

As the competition heated up, they could hear the crowd of neighborhood kids cheering them on from the sidelines, their excited shouts echoing across the court.

Ben's eyes were laser-focused on the game, but his mind was elsewhere. He knew that every drop of sweat he shed on this court was helping him prepare for the challenges that lay ahead.

He had visualized this moment for months, imagining himself on the court in front of scouts, showcasing his skills. Now, with the camps and showcases looming, he knew he had to give it everything he had.

"Keep it up, B!" Jackson shouted as he passed the ball to Ben. "Those scouts won't know what hit 'em!"

Ben nodded, a fierce determination blazing in his eyes.

With a well-placed pivot and a quick shot, Ben sank the ball into the net with a satisfying "swoosh!" As his friends cheered, they erupted into a chorus of Pac-inspired raps, mouths creating beats and hands keeping time.

In that moment, Ben couldn't help but think about Miranda. He'd first caught her eye while rapping after a game at the same park. She was with her friends , lips curved in a smile as she watched him perform, her caramel skin seeming to glow in the fading sunlight. He still couldn't believe she'd found him so captivating.

Ben's thoughts were quickly interrupted by the memory of Miranda joining him on the court that fateful day, her curvy body pressed against his as she swayed to the rhythm of their beats. In that moment, she was unlike her friends—uncaring about what others thought—and it only made Ben's attraction to her stronger.

Though they'd exchanged numbers, he couldn't call or text her since his phone had been broken. And for three days, he had been left to wonder if she'd forgotten about him. But even as he made that layup, he knew he had to see her again.

As Ben's pockets grew heavier with the cash he earned from selling his uncle's coke, his mind raced with possibilities. With the savings for his upcoming camps and showcases secured, Ben knew he wanted to spoil Miranda. She might come from the other side of the tracks—the glitzy, perfect world of the suburbs—but he knew deep down she appreciated his efforts.

Last time they'd hung out, she'd relished the greasy food from a local food truck, even though he was sure she was used to fine dining and expensive tastes. But that hadn't mattered.

Freshly showered and clad in his gear, Ben slid into his 1966 Ford Mustang convertible. A small smile tugged at his lips as he ran his fingers over the cherry red exterior of the car, a prized possession once belonging to his late father.

As he fired up the engine, the roar of the Mustang's engine filled the air, and with one last look at his modest home, he revved the engine and took off.

Driving down the city streets, he couldn't help but think of his father, of the countless hours they'd spent together in this car, sharing stories and plans for the future.

With the convertible top down and the wind in his hair, Ben cruised his Mustang towards the gated entrance of Southside Private School. He glanced at the dashboard clock, 4:25 in the afternoon, and wondered if he'd be lucky enough to catch Miranda before she left for the day.

The school was a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble neighborhood where Ben had grown up. The manicured lawns and imposing brick buildings stood in silent testament to the wealth and privilege that separated him from Miranda's world.