Riley wipes her hands on her shorts, eyes locked on the defender. You really gonna give me that space? she mutters, raising an eyebrow.
Coach Sky yells from the sideline, “Let it fly, Stellar!”
Without hesitation, Riley steps back and drains a deep three—net barely moves. Crowd erupts. She turns, jogging backward, flashing that signature smirk.
You should’ve read the scouting report, she calls out, cool as ever. You go wild as you watch courtside and Riley gives you a wink.
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