Fire and Ice

The ball arced through the air, the entire arena silent as thousands of eyes tracked its path.

James held his breath.

The ball hit the rim—bounced once—twice—then rolled out.

The buzzer sounded.

Overtime.

The crowd exploded into chaos, half cheering in relief, half groaning in frustration. James clenched his fists, jaw tightening as he turned away from the basket. He never missed those shots. Never.

But Jordan Miles had been there, contesting it, making it just difficult enough to throw him off.

James exhaled sharply. He wasn't going to let this slip away.

Jordan clapped his hands, hyping up his team as they huddled together. "Five more minutes, boys. We finish this."

James pulled his team into their own huddle, his voice low but firm. "We take control now. We play our game. Every possession matters."

Their coach barked out last-minute adjustments, but James barely listened. His focus was locked on Jordan, who stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling heavily. Their eyes met for a brief second—just enough for Jordan's mouth to twitch into a smirk.

James rolled his eyes. "Enjoying yourself?"

Jordan wiped his face with his jersey, sweat glistening under the lights. "You?"

James lifted his chin. "I don't lose in overtime."

Jordan chuckled. "We'll see about that."

The ref whistled. The ball went up. Overtime had begun.

The next five minutes were pure, unfiltered war.

Both teams were exhausted, bodies battered, lungs burning—but neither James nor Jordan slowed down. If anything, they went harder.

Jordan weaved through defenders, finishing a ridiculous layup through contact.

James answered with a deep three, barely breaking his form as it swished through the net.

Jordan stole the ball, sprinting down the court, only for James to chase him down and block the shot against the backboard.

They crashed into each other on the next play, both diving for a loose ball, arms tangling as they hit the hardwood.

"Get off me," James muttered, shoving at Jordan's shoulder.

Jordan grinned, breathless. "Miss me already?"

James scowled, pushing himself up. "You wish."

The game came down to the final possession again.

Madison had the ball. Jordan held it at the top of the key, dribbling slowly, watching James. The rest of the players faded away.

It was just the two of them now.

Jordan smirked. "One stop, Calloway. Can you do it?"

James planted his feet, body tense, every muscle coiled. "Try me."

Jordan moved.

He exploded to the left, then crossed over hard to the right. James stayed with him, forcing him into a tough angle. Jordan pulled up, shooting over James' outstretched arms.

The ball soared.

The buzzer rang.

Swish.

Game over.

Madison College 87, Middleton University 85.

The crowd erupted, Madison fans storming the court. Jordan pumped his fist before getting mobbed by his teammates, their cheers deafening. James stood frozen, hands on his hips, staring at the basket as the loss settled into his bones.

He'd lost.

To Jordan Miles.

James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The frustration was instant, curling hot in his chest. He should've blocked that shot. He should've made his own.

Jordan finally broke free from his celebrating teammates, stepping toward James. His grin was wide, his eyes gleaming with adrenaline. "Damn, Calloway. You actually look human after a loss."

James rolled his shoulders, forcing his expression into something neutral. "Enjoy it while you can. It won't happen again."

Jordan chuckled, extending a hand. "Hell of a game, though."

James hesitated, then clasped it.

The moment their hands touched, something flickered in Jordan's eyes. Something James didn't recognize. Something that made his stomach twist for reasons he didn't want to examine.

"See you in March Madness," Jordan said, voice lower now, almost… something else.

James let go. "Count on it."

He turned away before he could think too hard about whatever had just passed between them.

He had bigger things to worry about.

Like making sure that the next time they met, Jordan Miles wouldn't be the one walking away with the win.