Late Evening – Recovery Room, Summit RidgeKyle sat shirtless on the treatment table, one leg submerged in the ice tub, face twisted from the cold.
Ari leaned against the wall, arms crossed, black hoodie half-zipped, curls tied in a bun, a red lollipop in her mouth like a blade waiting to be drawn.
"You sat in that tub for twenty minutes yesterday," she said. "And you're still moving like someone's grandfather on defense."
Kyle exhaled, avoiding her eyes.
"I'm good."
"You're lying."
"It's just sore."
"Nah, it's screaming. You're limping heavier. The coaches see it. The scouts see it. I see it."
Kyle clenched his jaw.
"You don't know what it's like to have everything riding on you."
Ari popped the lollipop from her mouth and tossed it in the trash.
"Don't talk to me like I'm some civilian. I know exactly what it's like to carry futures on your back. My cousin tore his ACL trying to prove himself. Played through the pain. He's teaching middle school now with zero cartilage in his knee."
Kyle said nothing.
"You keep this up, your mixtape gon' be the only legacy you got."
Flashback: The Practice Earlier That DayKyle had gone full throttle during 3-on-3 drills.
His defense was still elite—he stripped a top-50 ranked guard twice.
But every sprint back down the court looked like a war.
The assistant coach whispered to the head scout:
"He's losing bounce. Watch his left takeoff."
They jotted notes.
They didn't miss a thing.
Marcus pulled Kyle aside after.
"You don't sit out tomorrow, I'm benching you myself."
"You serious?"
"You're not invincible, Kyle. You're not from Krypton. You're from a broken part of Jamaica with a busted knee and too much pride."
Kyle walked off.
Didn't respond.
Back to the Ice Tub – Ari vs. KyleAri handed him a towel.
"You ain't slick. I saw the way you grabbed your leg during that crossover."
"Drop it."
"No."
"I said drop it, Ari."
Her voice didn't rise.
It softened—dangerously.
"You're scared. And instead of letting someone help, you're shutting me out."
"This ain't your business."
"It is when I care."
That broke the air.
Kyle looked at her—really looked.
Ari's eyes, usually sharp with sarcasm, were cloudy now. Vulnerable.
"You… care?"
"No. I'm just randomly spending my free time icing stubborn ballers for fun."
She rolled her eyes.
But her voice trembled, just a little.
Kyle stood, limping slightly. The towel in his hand shook.
"I don't know how to do this..."
"Do what?"
"Let people in. Since my mom... it's been survival, not softness."
Ari stepped closer.
"You don't need to be soft. Just real."
"I'm broken."
"Good," she whispered. "So am I."
And then… the space between them vanished.
Ari stepped in, grabbed his shirt gently, and kissed him—slow, not sweet.
Like a dare.
Kyle didn't pull back. He leaned in.
Her hand grazed his cheek. His breath hitched.
Then she stepped away.
"Now get your ass back in the tub."
College Offer Chaos – The Next MorningKyle opened his locker.
Three new envelopes.
Baylor – strong interest
UConn – scholarship plus NIL package
G League Ignite – "Let's talk"
Marcus read over his shoulder.
"They're circling like sharks."
"I don't know what to choose."
"That's 'cause you're not ready to choose."
"Ari said—"
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"Ari?"
Kyle smirked.
"She… cool."
"That 'cool' look like a hickey."
Kyle pulled up his collar.
Marcus grinned.
"Just don't let a girl be the reason you ignore a doctor."
Ari's Apartment – That NightKyle knocked.
Ari opened in a tank top and leggings, her textbook open in one hand.
"You lost?"
"Nah. I just wanted… someone to talk to."
"About?"
"Everything."
They sat on her bed, books scattered.
Kyle told her about Montego Bay. About his mom. Chino. The prison. The guilt.
She didn't interrupt.
Then she said,
"Let's make a deal. You keep hoopin'. I'll make sure your future don't get stolen."
"What's the catch?"
"When you go pro, I want 10%. I'll be your agent."
Kyle laughed.
"5%."
"7. And you buy me a car."
"Deal."
They shook hands.
Her fingers didn't let go.
Final Scene – Alone AgainLater that night, Kyle sat under the gym lights.
Everyone else had gone home.
He bounced the ball once.
Knee aching.
Looked at the rim.
Then at the sky.
"I'm still here, Mom."
He pulled out the UConn letter.
Folded it.
Slipped it in his bag.
"Not done yet."