I held the ball, feeling the weight of it in my hands as Edward stood in front of me, his stance steady and eyes locked on mine. The first jab step I gave him had no effect—he hadn't even flinched. He was solid, not easily fooled, and I knew I had to take it up a notch.
I shifted my weight, gave him a second jab step, this time with more intent, trying to see if I could get any reaction out of him. Edward's eyes narrowed just a little, his body shifting ever so slightly, but he stayed disciplined. I could tell he was waiting, reading me, trying to anticipate my next move.
The court was silent except for the faint echo of the basketball as I dribbled once, then twice. The sun was just beginning to climb higher, and I could feel its warmth on the back of my neck. I kept my eyes on Edward, looking for any sign that he might be ready to take the bait.
"Come on, Eddie," I muttered under my breath, my own voice barely audible over the sound of the ball. I needed to push harder, find an opening. I dribbled again, this time stepping back slightly, gauging the space between us. Edward didn't move. He was patient—maybe too patient—and I was determined to use that against him.
I glanced at the hoop, faking a shot, and for just a split second, I saw Edward's body tense. That was it—the crack in his defense I was waiting for. I drove hard to my right, my feet pounding against the concrete as I moved. Edward reacted, sliding quickly to stay with me, but I could feel the momentum shift in my favor. I crossed over, pulling back slightly, and Edward stumbled, just enough for me to create some space.
I pulled up for a jumper, the ball leaving my hand in a clean arc. Time seemed to slow as it sailed through the air, and I watched, holding my breath. It hit the rim, bounced once, twice, and then dropped through the net. The sound of the ball swishing through brought a grin to my face.
"One-zero," I said, my voice a mix of relief and excitement.
This wasn't just about the score—this was about setting the tone, showing Edward that I could hang with him. I dribbled the ball, feeling the familiar rhythm, my eyes never leaving his. I could tell he was taking me seriously now, his stance even lower, his focus sharper.
I faked a drive, then pulled back, keeping him guessing. Edward didn't bite this time, his eyes locked on my every move. I knew I couldn't rely on just one trick—I had to mix it up, keep him off balance. I dribbled to my left, then crossed over quickly to my right, looking for any opening I could exploit.
Edward moved with me, his feet quick, his defense tight. I could feel the challenge in every step, the way he wasn't giving me anything for free. I drove again, this time pushing harder, my shoulder dipping as I tried to get past him. Edward stayed with me, his body right there, blocking my path.
I spun, pivoting on my left foot, feeling the roughness of the pavement beneath my shoe. I brought the ball up, twisting my body as I aimed for the hoop. Edward's hand shot up, trying to contest the shot, but I released it just in time. The ball arced high, and I watched as it sailed towards the basket.
It bounced off the backboard, hitting the rim, and for a moment, everything seemed to hang in the balance. Then, it dropped through, the net barely moving as the ball fell to the ground.
"Two-zero," I said, breathing heavily, my heart pounding in my chest.
Edward gave a small nod, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, Eddie," he said, picking up the ball. "Let's see what else you've got.
YOU ARE READING
Sharks
Teen FictionIn the lively streets of Chinatown, Eddie is just an ordinary teen with an extraordinary dream: to prove himself on the court. "Sharks" is the story of Eddie's journey in the world of streetball, where the stakes are high, and every game is a battle...