His smug-as-frak question is just fuel for the fire. She's on and she knows it.
He can beat her; he'll just have to step it up.
He's either too cocky or he's catching his breath when he takes the ball, but he's too slow. Just a little too slow, and she's barely up on her feet again before she slams into him with all her weight, arms folded against his back rather than thrown around his waist. Not having to disentangle herself from him buys her a second, and it's all she needs to snatch the ball back and heave it at the nearest backstop.
It arcs neatly and goes straight in.
A self-righteous laugh hiccups out of her, and she wipes sweat off her forehead. "What were you telling me?"
One more point and the game's hers.
It's the closest to her element she'll get with her feet on the ground, and now that she's up he can't be allowed to even the score. As soon as he's back out of the safe zone with the ball in his hand, she's in his face, grinning like a frakking shark, her hands running interference and her feet shadowing his. She pops the ball out of his grasp with a well-aimed slap, catches it before it even hits the ground, and protects it like it's the last one mankind'll ever see. Three steps down the court, one hand -- and elbow -- fending him off, she lets the ball trip right off her fingers and into the cage.
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He can beat her; he'll just have to step it up.
He's either too cocky or he's catching his breath when he takes the ball, but he's too slow. Just a little too slow, and she's barely up on her feet again before she slams into him with all her weight, arms folded against his back rather than thrown around his waist. Not having to disentangle herself from him buys her a second, and it's all she needs to snatch the ball back and heave it at the nearest backstop.
It arcs neatly and goes straight in.
A self-righteous laugh hiccups out of her, and she wipes sweat off her forehead. "What were you telling me?"
One more point and the game's hers.
It's the closest to her element she'll get with her feet on the ground, and now that she's up he can't be allowed to even the score. As soon as he's back out of the safe zone with the ball in his hand, she's in his face, grinning like a frakking shark, her hands running interference and her feet shadowing his. She pops the ball out of his grasp with a well-aimed slap, catches it before it even hits the ground, and protects it like it's the last one mankind'll ever see. Three steps down the court, one hand -- and elbow -- fending him off, she lets the ball trip right off her fingers and into the cage.
And then raises both arms in a celebratory yell.