Score: Vorpal 51 – Piedmont 49. Four minutes left in the third.
Lucas's chest heaved, sweat rolling down his temple as he glanced toward Ethan. Their eyes met in the brief lull between plays—two different fires sparking in the same moment.
"This…" Lucas murmured, voice just loud enough for Ethan to hear over the stomps of Piedmont's bench and the crowd's restless noise. His yellow eyes burned, alive. "…it feels like a real game."
Ethan's lips tugged into a sharp grin, his own chest rising and falling with exhaustion, yet his gaze remained steady. "It is a real game." His words cut through the noise, crisp and certain.
Lucas blinked, confused for a moment. Ethan didn't look at him right away, he turned his head, sweeping his eyes across the entire Vorpal bench, across Ryan's clenched fists, Aiden's tense stare, Evan's nervous bouncing, Josh chewing on his lip, and Brandon's heavy breathing. Then, only then, did he lock back onto Lucas.
