"She wasn't afraid of missing the shot. She was afraid of missing the moment. " ~ Unknown
Selina's eyes sparkled when she saw Michael's bike. It was sleek, aggressive, built for speed, a black Kawasaki Ninja. It suited a quiet person like him in a way she couldn't quite imagine.
He swung a leg over the seat, settling into place with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times. She watched him put on his helmet, then he pulled out a second one and held it out to her.
"You'd better tie up your hair," he said, lifting the visor. "Unless you want it flying everywhere."
Selina touched her hair self‑consciously. "I didn't bring a band."
He studied her for a moment, then said, "Come here. I'll help."
She blinked, then walked around to face away from him. His hands were gentle as they gathered her hair, fingers brushing her neck, folding the dark waves into a neat bun.
"How do you know how to do this?" she asked. "You've never had long hair."
"I learned from observing." His voice was calm, focused on his work.
He slipped the helmet over her head, adjusting the strap. Selina stood very still, her heart beating faster than it should have.
He stepped back. "Ready?"
She nodded.
He wheeled the bike out of the parking spot and swung onto it, then looked back at her. "Get on."
She climbed on behind him, her hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. He looked back and smiled.
"Hold on tight," he said. "No back support on this one. I don't want you falling off."
"Okay." Her voice came out softer than she intended. She held onto his shoulders.
He started the engine. The bike hummed to life beneath them, and then they were moving.
They stopped at a sports shop along the way. Michael picked out a basketball, testing it before nodding in satisfaction. Then they rode to a neighborhood court, the kind tucked between houses and trees, with chain‑link fences and faded lines.
When they took off their helmets, Selina's hair tumbled down her shoulders in waves. She looked at Michael, surprised. "I thought you tied it up."
"Loosely." He ran a hand through his own hair, shaking it out. "You've seen it in movies, girls take off their helmets and their hair flows out. I wanted to see if it worked."
Selina laughed. "Did it?"
He smiled. "I think so."
They left their things by the bench. On the other side, three high school boys were running drills. They glanced over when Selina and Michael entered, their eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary.
Michael understood. Selina was beautiful, her hair flowing and her movements gentle. Boys like them are always looking for girls.
Michael picked up the ball and tossed it to her. "Let's see what you've got."
She caught it awkwardly, walked to the free‑throw line, and shot.
The ball sailed wide, bouncing off the backboard and rolling toward the fence. Selina stared at her hands, then at the ring, as if it had personally betrayed her.
"I didn't think I'd be that bad," she said, her cheeks warming. "It's just putting the ball in a basket."
Michael retrieved the ball, a smile tugging at his lips. "Basketball looks easier than it is. Especially when you've never played."
He came to stand beside her, pulling up his sleeves. "You don't need to jump from this close. Just stand in the centre and aim. And fix your posture. Once you have the right form, you'll figure out how much strength to use."
He positioned himself in front of the ring, his movements deliberately slow. "Watch. Copy what I do."
He lifted the ball, his arms moving in a smooth, fluid arc. The shot was clean, a swish, nothing but net. The ball fell through without touching the rim.
"See?" He caught it on the bounce and handed it to her. "Now you try."
Selina stepped into position, the ball heavy in her hands. She bent her knees, raised her arms, and released. The ball arced through the air, hit the rim, spun once, twice, and fell in.
She gasped. "Did you see that?"
"I saw." Michael was smiling, a real smile, warm and proud.
She shot again. This time it went in clean.
Another shot. Another basket.
Her excitement grew with each one. She wasn't a natural, but with Michael beside her, guiding her, she felt like she could learn anything.
The high school boys had stopped their drills to watch. They were too distracted by them to keep playing. One of them whistled. "Nice shot."
Selina turned. She didn't feel offended as she was more engrossed in being happy. She didn't have fun like this in a long time. She looked at Michael, who caught the ball.
"One more?" she asked.
"As many as you want."
She ran back to the line. When she wasn't looking at him anymore, Michael glanced back at the boys for a moment. Then he looked back like nothing happened and tossed her the ball.