"The ones who shine brightest are often the ones who never asked for the light." ~ Unknown
Selina watched in awe as Michael moved around the court, his movements fluid, effortless. When she had made those first few shots, she had let herself believe she might have a knack for the game. Watching him now, she realised how far she was from understanding what basketball truly was.
"Wow," she breathed. "How are you so good after all these years?"
Michael caught the ball on the bounce and tossed it back toward the ring without looking. It swished through clean. "I still play. I have a hoop at home."
"Who do you play with?"
"My brother and sister. They were in our school too, if you remember."
"Don't you ever get bored of it?"
"No. Not really. I like basketball."
They played for a while longer. Selina's shots were inconsistent, but every time one finally went through, she felt a surge of triumph. Michael was patient, letting her try again and again. Each time she scored, she laughed, and each time she laughed, she saw him smile.
After more than half an hour, they took a break, settling on the steps at the edge of the court. The cold drinks they brought on the way were still cool, condensation beading on the cans. Selina was mid-sentence when the three high school boys approached.
They looked shy but also excited. One of them stepped forward.
"Hello, sister. Do you want to play a match with us? We're short on a player."
Selina blinked, then smiled. "I am tired. But Michael can join you."
The boy replied quickly. "We wanted to play with you."
Selina didn't know what to say. She glanced at Michael. His expression was unreadable.
The boys looked confused. Michael said nothing. Selina turned back to them.
"I'm completely new to the game," she said. "I had enough for today. But he- " she nodded toward Michael, "he's good. Why don't you play with him?"
She looked at Michael. "It'll be fun. You can have a real match." She could tell he was barely putting anything into the game when they were playing.
"I like playing with you," Michael said. "I'm having fun."
"That's not what I meant." Selina's voice was gentle. "Some running around would be good for you. And I've never watched you play properly. I'd like to see."
Michael held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Since you say so."
He stood, setting his can aside. Then, without hesitation, he pulled off his sweatshirt.
The boys froze. Selina's breath caught.
Beneath the sweatshirt, he wore a black sleeveless vest and a silver cross locket. The simplicity of it, the unexpected confidence, made something flutter in Selina's chest.
One of the boys called out, recovering his bravado. "Wait! How about this? If we defeat him, then you will play with us. For ten minutes. What do you say?"
Hearing that, Michael turned to look at the boy talking to Selina. A sharp glint flashed in his eyes, too fast, like an illusion.
Selina looked at him. She understood what the boys were trying to do. She laughed lightly.
"Sure. Best of luck." It felt like she was cheating, like making children go against an adult.
Michael looked at her for a moment, then said, "I'll be back soon."
She waved him off, her voice coming out lighter than she felt. "I am rooting for you."
The boys followed him onto the court, clearly disappointed that Selina wasn't joining them.
"Okay. Let's divide the team. How about- "
"I'll play against the three of you," Michael said as they were about to split sides.
The boys were surprised, then scoffed. "Are you that eager to lose? We're on our school's basketball team." They thought Michael was being overconfident.
He was older than them by a few years; they could see it in the way he carried himself, but they were young, eager, always wanting to show off and be cool.
Michael spoke calmly. "Fifteen minutes. Whoever scores more wins."
The boys felt offended, thinking Michael was being too arrogant.
Selina moved to the steps at the edge of the court, phone in hand. Michael had explained the scoring: two points for a shot inside the arc, three for outside. She was ready to keep count.
The boys exchanged glances. One of them said, "You sure? Don't come crying if you lose. We were being fair."
Michael said nothing. He simply looked at them.
The taller boy controlled the tip-off. He jumped, arm stretched high, confident he had the height advantage. But Michael was faster. He rose higher, tipped the ball away, and caught it on the descent.
The boy's confidence flickered.
Michael moved. His dribble was low, controlled, his body shifting direction without warning. He slipped past the first defender, then the second. The third boy planted himself under the ring, arms up, ready to block.
Michael pulled up short, took a step back, and shot.
The arc was perfect. The ball cleared the defender's fingers by inches and dropped through the net with a clean swish.
Selina marked the score on her phone, a grin spreading across her face.
The boys reset, their earlier bravado replaced by focus. They moved the ball quickly, passing with precision, trying to shake Michael's defence. The tallest boy had the ball now, confident in his handling, waiting for Michael to commit.
Michael closed the distance. The boy held his ground, faking left, then right.
Michael didn't bite. He waited, patient, until the boy made the move he was waiting for. Then, with a motion so quick it was almost invisible, he stripped the ball away.
He turned, dribbled once, twice, and shot from the wing. The ball kissed the backboard and fell through.
Selina marked another two points. The boys were watching Michael intently, wanting to wipe the confidence off his face.
The clock kept running. Michael scored again, and again. His movements were economical, precise, each possession ending the same way: the ball in the net, the boys scrambling to catch up.
Selina sat on the steps watching the way he moved, the quiet confidence in every step, the small, rare smile that flickered across his face when he made a satisfying shot.
This is who he really is, she thought.