Number one and only. [Nicholas &team]

Chapter 18 - The Game He Doesn't Play

The court fell into a low hush as Nicholas dribbled once, testing the ball’s weight in his hands. His posture was relaxed, almost careless — but there was precision in the way his fingers adjusted around the rubber, in the measured step he took before moving.
Maki gave him space at first, expecting a clumsy attempt. Instead, Nicholas shifted his weight, crossed the ball to his left hand, and slipped past the first defender before anyone registered he was moving.
“Woah—” one of the boys muttered, pivoting too late.
Nicholas drove forward, the court echoing under his sneakers. At the last second, he spun away from another block and sent the ball arcing cleanly toward the net. It dropped through without even grazing the rim.
The boys erupted.
“Okay, what the hell—” someone laughed from the sideline.
Ava’s eyebrows shot up, her grin spreading slow and wide.

They played on, Maki now watching him with sharpened focus. Nicholas didn’t dominate the game — he didn’t need to — but every time he had the ball, his movements were deliberate and smart. He read the court like a puzzle he’d already solved. A quick bounce pass here, a feint there, a sudden acceleration that left his opponent a step behind.
Maki blocked one of his shots with a smirk, but even he had to admit Nicholas was holding his own. The quiet, bookish new guy had skill — and the kind of calm that didn’t crack under pressure.
The score climbed, sweat beading along everyone’s temples, the air thick with shouts and sneaker squeaks.

Finally, the whistle blew. The game broke into scattered laughter and good-natured groans. Maki slapped Nicholas on the shoulder, half-grinning. “Not bad for someone who ‘doesn’t play.’”
Nicholas only gave a faint nod in reply.
From the sidelines, Ava jogged toward him, Christine trailing behind with his book and glasses. She handed him the glasses first, her smile teasing.
“So… you don’t play, huh?” she said, crossing her arms.
Nicholas slid the frames back onto his face, his hair still slightly damp, the line of his jaw sharper now without the loose fall of hair hiding it. “I don’t,” he said simply.
“Sure,” Ava replied, unconvinced, her tone playful. “And I don’t win basketball tournaments.”
He gave her a look — half amusement, half warning — before taking his book from her and walking back toward the bleachers.
Ava watched him go, that little grin refusing to fade.

If you want, Chapter 18 could be the next day, with the basketball match becoming the new school gossip — some girls swooning over “mysterious Nicholas,” Maki still suspicious, and Ava trying to find out how he learned to play so well. Should I go ahead with that?