The game had shifted. It wasn't just about scoring anymore. It was about control. About pride. About proving something that had nothing to do with the scoreboard and everything to do with who they were — and who they refused to be beneath.
Bayview trailed by three. Daren stood at the top of the key, eyes scanning the floor, calm in the chaos. He didn't rush. He waited. Malik curled around the baseline, caught the pass, and dropped it in off the glass. Titans 41 – Bayview 40. The crowd responded instantly with tension. Everyone could feel what was coming.
Tyrese caught the inbound, his face unreadable. He dribbled slowly, deliberately, then exploded forward. A quick pass to the wing, a cut through the lane, and the ball came back to him. He rose and finished with a soft touch, no wasted motion. Titans 43 – Bayview 40. He didn't look at Daren. He didn't need to. The message was clear.
Daren didn't blink. He pushed the pace, passed to the corner, then cut through the defense. The ball came back to him, and he finished with a layup through contact. No whistle. No foul. Just grit. Titans 43 – Bayview 42. He jogged back like nothing had happened, but Tyrese saw the look in his eyes — steady, unshaken.
Tyrese clenched his jaw. He's still matching me. Always matching me. Always finding a way to stay in it.
He ran the next play with precision. A fake, a drive, a kick to the corner. His teammate rose and hit the shot. Titans 46 – Bayview 42. The crowd roared again, but Tyrese didn't react. He was already thinking about the next possession.
Daren responded instantly. He called for a screen, slipped behind it, and found Malik again — this time for a mid-range jumper. Titans 46 – Bayview 44. The rhythm was tight now. Every possession felt like a punch thrown. Every answer came from one of them.
Tyrese caught the ball again. This time, he didn't pass. He danced with it — between the legs, behind the back, then a sudden burst into the paint. He rose, twisted, and dropped the ball in. Titans 48 – Bayview 44.
I used to look up at him, Tyrese thought. Now I'm standing across from him. And I'm not blinking.
Daren came again. No hesitation. He drove hard, drew the defense, and kicked it to the trailing wing. The shot dropped. Titans 48 – Bayview 47.
He's always been like this, Daren thought. Since we were kids. Always pushing. Always trying to win. He used to be my friend. Still feels like he is, even now.
Tyrese didn't smile. Didn't nod. Didn't acknowledge anything but the scoreboard.
He's not my friend, Tyrese thought. He's my nemesis. In everything. And I'm done being second.
The next play was chaos. Bayview trapped the ball, forced a turnover. Daren grabbed it, sprinted, and finished with a clean layup. Titans 48 – Bayview 49. Bayview had taken the lead. The crowd erupted. The bench jumped. But Tyrese didn't flinch.
He always finds a way. Always. Even when I think I've got him, he slips through.
He ran the next play with fury. A hard drive, a spin, a kick to the corner. The shot missed, but the rebound was grabbed and finished. Titans 50 – Bayview 49.
Daren came again. This time, he didn't pass. He crossed over, stepped back, and hit the jumper. Titans 50 – Bayview 51. The crowd couldn't sit still. The benches were on their feet. Coaches shouted. Players clapped. But inside the storm, it was just Tyrese and Daren.
Tyrese watched Daren talk to his teammates, calm, composed, always in control.
He's always been like this, Tyrese thought. Even in kindergarten. I was the one they liked — until he showed up. Until he smiled, and suddenly everyone forgot about me. He didn't even try. He just took it.
The clock ticked down. Final seconds of the quarter.
Tyrese had the ball.
He dribbled slowly, deliberately. Daren stood in front of him, eyes steady, feet planted. No words. No gestures. Just two players who knew exactly what this moment meant.
Tyrese moved — between the legs, behind the back, step back.
He rose.
I'm going to surpass you, he thought. Right here. Right now.
The ball left his hands in a perfect arc just as the buzzer sounded.