Avira shook her head, her lips curling into a lazy smile. “It’s just that… this morning, when I accidentally bumped into you, I sensed you must be good at sports. Your height, your steps, your aura—if you weren’t like me, we wouldn’t have collided, right?”
George narrowed his eyes, his dark pupils catching the evening sunset, glowing brilliantly. “Avira NAssy, I’ve realized… you’re a very dangerous person.”
Her sharp observation skills…
She always looked like she was about to fall asleep while walking, yet someone like that…
Could it be that, deep down, she had countless strategies ready, always able to find a way out of any situation?
“Because… I’m a monster, after all,” she said softly, her voice as gentle as the sunset-tinted clouds, blushing in the fading light.
George paused, slightly taken aback.
He couldn’t help but glance at her. Her soft profile was bathed in the evening glow, making her look unreal.
“I thought you’d ask me if I’d changed my mind.”
Even he didn’t know why he suddenly asked that. His voice was as calm as ever, and his face showed no hint of expression.
As though having no expression was *his* expression.
That cool, distant tone was simply *his* tone.
Avira smiled lazily. “If you wanted to come, George Backer, then you would come. No matter how many questions anyone asked, your heart’s decision would mean more, wouldn’t it?”
Her mother had once said that if someone loved something passionately but had to let it go, there must be a reason they didn’t want others to know.
You didn’t need to rip open someone’s old wounds and make them suffer again. Everyone had a right to keep certain parts of their past hidden.
If running away could spare someone’s pain, there was nothing shameful about that.
Backer fell silent, his blue eyes, almost black, reflecting the twilight, the light shifting into a deep, endless blur. “I don’t like basketball.”
Avira’s lashes fluttered, and she turned to look at him, her gaze confused.
Not… like basketball?
But she could feel it… this boy’s obsession with the sport.
It seemed as though only on the basketball court did he truly shine. His empty gaze was filled with life when he touched a basketball.
Unapproachable or not, it didn’t matter. To her, George seemed born for basketball.
Yet now he was telling her he didn’t like it!
“I don’t play because I enjoy it. It’s just a habit. That’s why my basketball isn’t pure.”
George tilted his head slightly, gazing at the crimson sky in the distance. The play of light made his face indescribably handsome. “Am I even worthy of playing, when that’s all it is?”
“When you only have one reason left, that’s pure enough,” Avira replied. “Like how I eat cake just because I want to eat cake…”
Just like her—playing basketball because she got paid. Her reason couldn’t be purer!
It was all about the money!
Yawning lazily, she turned away. “Mmm… thinking of cake makes me so sleepy… Time to go home and eat…”
She waved her small hand lazily, and the only thing left in view was the bright red ribbon on her wrist, vividly catching the twilight colors.
George froze, feeling something deep within him reawaken, every cell in his body stirring to life, roaring and surging.
When there’s only one reason left, that’s pure enough…
Because she wanted to eat cake, she ate cake…
Because basketball was a habit… he played basketball…
It was odd, really. Earlier, their teamwork had been seamless…
The pass she’d made, which seemed so casual, had been perfectly timed and placed.
He had always known she was strong.
He had thought nothing could ever shake him…
But now…
He desperately wanted to play basketball with her.
If it was with *her*, he wanted to be on the court together!
At the same time, a jet-black Lincoln limousine slowly pulled away from the court.
The scenery blurred past the car windows.
“I always thought no one else at Eastwest could be a worthy opponent, aside from Asake Bull, George Backer, and Lucas Luza,” a boy in the car murmured, his clear eyes fixed on the retreating figure.
The white shirt she wore was bathed in the light of the setting sun, blurred and hazy, but the red ribbon on her wrist stood out vividly.
He turned slightly to look at the boy beside him. His tea-colored eyes curved into crescent moons, his long lashes fluttering like delicate wings, breathtakingly beautiful.
“But who knew… this year, Eastwest has someone even more dangerous,” he added.
Sitting beside him, Asake’s lips curved into a faint smile.
His long lashes sparkled under the light, as if glimpsing a mesmerizing mirage through the sea’s misty veil.
“Mike, are you scared?” he asked.
“Scared?” Mike Stell chuckled softly. “Asake, you know… basketball isn’t a game won by one person. I admit she’s strong, but by herself, or even with a wavering George, they can’t beat us.”
