Chapter 43: Safe for the First Time
The woman began walking across the court.
Heels echoed against cracked pavement. Her long, pale blonde hair swayed behind her and every movement of her hips came with a hypnotic rhythm that broke the court’s air.
Her figure was absurd, not the sculpted, hard fitness of a Breakball player, but something older, juicier, mature.
Her curves jiggled slightly with every step, the sway of her generous chest barely contained beneath her blouse. Tight black pants hugged thighs that could crush egos, and her coat fluttered around her like the cape of a villainess. She wasn’t built like the girls who played here, she was built like the reason they lost.
The teens unconsciously parted like a tide, letting her pass. Eyes wide, mouths closed.
She glanced left and right. For each player she passed, her gaze flicked down, scanned, then filed away.
"Quad dominance with no ankle support," she murmured, passing a tall boy with too-short socks. "Sprain risk in two weeks."
"Inward knee collapse, pelvic tilt. No wonder you limp to your right."
"Compression shirt two sizes too tight. Restricting shoulder mobility."
They didn’t know whether to be insulted or impressed. But no one dared interrupt.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes locked on a skinny guy with sagging baggy jeans, a beanie halfway off his head, and an oversized hoodie drenched in sweat.