"The greatest gift we can give someone is our time. Because when we give our time, we are giving a part of our life that we will never get back." ~ Unknown
This time, the boys were truly stunned. The confidence they had walked onto the court with had evaporated, replaced by something else. They realised, perhaps for the first time, that they had been playing against someone who belonged to a different league entirely.
The tall boy, the one from whom Michael had stolen the ball, gathered his teammates. They huddled briefly, heads together, planning. When they broke apart, their movements were sharper, their focus absolute. No more underestimating. No more taking it easy.
They had the ball again. This time, they worked it around with precision, forcing Michael to move, to cover, to stretch. One of them finally found an opening and shot. Michael jumped to defend, his fingers grazing the ball just enough to alter its arc. It hit the rim, wobbled, hung suspended for a breathless moment, and fell through.
The boys exhaled. They had scored. It was a small victory, but it mattered.
Michael said nothing. He retrieved the ball and moved to the top of the key.
He scored again, breaking through their defence with the same fluid ease as before. The boys reset, their frustration mounting. They decided to try for a three-pointer. It was their best chance; if they could make it, the extra point might close the gap.
The shot went up. It clanged off the rim.
Michael was already moving, grabbing the rebound before any of them could react. He turned, dribbled twice, and laid the ball in with a soft touch that barely disturbed the net.
The boys abandoned the three-point strategy for the moment and went back to two-pointers. They tried passing, positioning, playing the percentages. They assigned two players to shadow Michael at all times, but it didn't seem to matter. He was always a step ahead, reading their movements before they made them.
Midway through the game, Michael stole the ball during a pass, reading the play before it developed, slipping into the passing lane, his hand outstretched. He moved to the wing, planted his feet, and rose up for a three-pointer.
The shot was clean. It was a perfect arc, a soft rotation, and nothing but the net.
A smile flickered across Michael's face, a small, genuine smile.
From the steps, Selina watched him, and something in her chest tightened.
The game continued. Fifteen minutes passed quickly. When the final timer buzzed off, the boys were breathing hard, their faces flushed, and sweating buckets. Compared to them, Michael was barely winded. He completely destroyed them. Well, that was what he was trying to do.
He didn't know why he wanted to do that.
They walked over to Selina, who was already standing, phone in hand, a proud smile on her face.
"Seventy-two to twenty," she announced.
The boys exchanged glances. Only twenty points. They had played their best, and it hadn't even been close.
One of them finally asked, defeated. "How is he so good?"
Selina's smile widened. "He was the captain of our high school basketball team. They won three consecutive championships under him. Our school is still famous for it."
She had known this about Michael, everyone knew, but saying it out loud, watching the boys process it, made her feel something close to pride.
The boys nodded slowly, looking at Michael with new eyes. He was busy wiping his sweat with his handkerchief. Then one of them asked. "That was... Amazing." They looked slightly embarrassed. "Can we play again sometime?"
Michael shrugged. "Maybe."
They said their goodbyes, the boys heading off still talking animatedly about the game, replaying shots and steals, already planning how they'd improve. They forgot all about their original intent. Michael and Selina gathered their things and walked back to the bike.
Later on, Michael realised what he did was so unlike him. He was surprised at himself. He didn't even know why he felt off about them. It was normal for boys their age to try flirting and all.
They stopped by an ice cream parlour between a bookstore and a laundromat, its neon sign buzzing softly in the evening air. They sat at a table by the window. Selina watched Michael eat his chocolate cone with the same quiet focus he brought to everything else, and she found herself smiling for no reason at all.
When they reached her house, the gate was already lit, the warm glow spilling onto the driveway. Selina climbed off the bike and removed her helmet, her hair tumoring down around her shoulders.
She handed the helmet back to Michael. "I really had lots of fun tonight. Let's do this again someday. When does your office start?"
"After two days."
"That's Monday. I'm leaving that day." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Michael nodded. "Alright. I'll plan something better next time."
"It wasn't bad this time." She laughed softly. "I really enjoyed myself. Don't worry about it."
"Okay." They looked at each other for a moment, something warm building up in their hearts before Michael said.
"Go inside, it's getting late."
"Yeah, Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
She walked up the path, and when she looked back at the gate, he was still there, watching her go.