Sharks

Chapter 5 - The Comeback

I was exhausted, but I had one more in me. I took the ball, dribbled slowly, trying to catch my breath. Edward was watching me, his eyes sharp, waiting for my next move. I faked a shot, then drove to the right, my legs burning with each step. I jumped, releasing the ball, aiming for a layup.

But just as I thought I had it, Edward surged forward, his arm extending above me. His hand met the ball with a solid smack, blocking my shot cleanly. The ball bounced away, and Edward was quick to scoop it up.

He dribbled back to the three-point line, his eyes glinting with determination.

I tried to stay with him, but my legs were heavy, my stamina fading fast. He pulled up for a jumper, and the ball flew through the air, hitting nothing but net.

"Eight-one," he said, the competitive glint in his eyes growing sharper.

"Eight-zero," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I was tired—more tired than I had been in a long time. My legs felt like lead, my breathing ragged. I could see Edward studying me, a small smile tugging at his lips as he picked up the ball. He knew I was gassed, and he was ready to take advantage.

"Looks like you're slowing down, Eddie," he said, his tone almost teasing. "Let's see if you can keep up with me now."

Edward checked the ball to himself, giving me a nod before dribbling aggressively to his right. I tried to keep up, my legs feeling like they were weighed down by concrete blocks. He moved quickly, and just as I lunged to block him, he pulled up for a jumper. The ball flew through the air, hitting nothing but net.

"Eight-one," he said, the competitive glint in his eyes growing sharper.

I wiped my forehead, trying to catch my breath, but Edward wasn't giving me any time. He grabbed the ball and checked it to himself again, this time driving straight at me. I raised my arms, but he pushed past, his shoulder brushing against me. He took it all the way to the hoop, finishing with a layup.

"Eight-two," he called, his voice steady.

My breathing was ragged, and I could feel the sweat pouring down my face. I tried to catch a break, to take just a second to gather myself, but Edward wasn't having it. He grabbed the ball, his movements quick and relentless. He faked a drive, then stepped back, taking another shot. I tried to contest, but I was a step too slow. The ball arced high and swished through.

"Eight-three," he said, a smirk forming on his face.

I could feel the game slipping away from me. My stamina just wasn't keeping up, and Edward could see it. He was taking advantage of every gap, every moment where I wasn't fast enough. He checked the ball again, and before I could even get into position, he blew past me, driving hard to the hoop for another easy layup.

"Eight-four," he announced, his eyes locked on mine, daring me to keep going.

I bent over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My chest burned, and my legs felt heavy, but I wasn't ready to quit. I straightened up, nodding at Edward. He just smiled, a confident, almost smug look in his eyes.

"Ready for more?" he asked, his voice dripping with challenge.

My hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My chest felt like it was on fire, each inhale burning as if I was breathing in flames. The sun was getting hotter as the game was getting longer. My legs felt heavy, every muscle aching, barely able to keep me upright. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears, my vision blurring at the edges. But I wasn't ready to quit. 

I straightened up, nodding at Edward.

I checked the ball to himself, and without hesitation, he made his move. He drove to his left, and I tried to stay with him, but my legs felt like they were filled with lead. He pulled up at the free-throw line, taking a quick jumper. The ball sailed through the air and swished through the net.

"Eight-five," he called out, his voice steady and focused.

I tried to gather myself, but my chest was still burning, each breath like fire. Edward wasted no time—he checked the ball to himself again, driving straight at me. I stumbled slightly as I tried to stay in front of him, but he was too quick. He finished at the basket with another easy layup.

"Eight-six," he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

I wiped my face, sweat pouring down as I tried to keep my focus. Edward was relentless, and I could feel the game slipping further away. He checked the ball, dribbled to his right, then crossed over to his left, leaving me off-balance. He pulled up for another jumper, and I watched helplessly as the ball dropped through the net.

"Eight-seven," he said, his voice filled with confidence.

I was on my last legs, but Edward wasn't done. He moved with precision, keeping the pressure on. He checked the ball and drove hard, his shoulder brushing against me as he spun towards the basket. I tried to contest, but my reaction was too slow. He laid it in effortlessly.

"Eight-eight," he called out, his voice steady as ever.

I bent over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I could barely stand, but Edward just kept coming. He checked the ball once more, then dribbled aggressively towards me. I tried to hold my ground, but he stepped back, creating space, and took another shot. The ball sailed through the air and swished cleanly through the net.

"Eight-nine," he said, a smirk forming on his face.

I knew I was in trouble. My legs felt like they could give out at any moment, and Edward wasn't letting up. He checked the ball, then drove right past me, his movements smooth and effortless. He went up for a layup, the ball kissing the glass before dropping through the net.

"Eight-ten. Point game." he said, his eyes meeting mine, his expression filled with determination.

I stood there, my chest heaving, my lungs screaming for air. I had started strong, but now, it felt like the game was slipping away, and I could barely keep up. Edward had taken control, but I'm not going to let him score the next point no matter what.