Chapter 30: Devil’s Playground
The court had a pulse again, Nash could almost feel it trembling under his sneakers.
He walked like he owned that space, and everyone watched him.
Just a flick of his wrist and every head snapped his way. Lina was behind him, twisting her hair, classic Lina. Sarra kept her hood up, scoping the scene.
Then two randos shuffled over to fill out the squad. One guy had a buzz cut and calves that looked like they could crush a coconut; the other guy’s jersey practically swallowed him whole.
Whatever, they just needed warm bodies, and everyone here was a nobody.
Before the ball even hit the ground, Nash turned to the people gathering at the edge.
"Ten creds a match," he tossed out. "Winner scoops the whole thing."
Someone yelled.
"Bro, you already smoked Blacklist. Now you wanna jack our rent?"
Nash just smirked. Never rattled.
"What’s the point of playing if there’s nothing on the line? Or you all scared of no-dunk-boy?"
That set everybody off, groans, trash talk, a couple people laughing. Some bets got thrown, some egos got bruised. Nobody was backing down.