Chapter 181: What a Sweet Young Couple
Once Wendy realized Rovel genuinely intended to play a match with her, her demeanor shifted. She adjusted her grip on the worn leather of the basketball, her eyes narrowing in focus, and launched a flawless three-pointer. The ball arced gracefully through the air, sinking through the net with a satisfying swish before hitting the asphalt. Tap, tap, tap. The rhythmic bouncing echoed the sudden, rapid thumping of her own chest. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a genuine spark of joy flared to life within her.
"You're actually that good?" Rovel blinked, momentarily stunned by the clean shot.
A bright, unshadowed smile broke across Wendy's face. "No one on this court has ever managed to beat me!"
"Is that so?" Rovel chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Then I suppose playtime is officially over." He gripped the handrims of his wheelchair, propelling himself forward to scoop up the bouncing ball. With a swift flick of his wrists, he tossed it back to her chest. "Don't expect scoring to be a walk in the park from here on out."
He leaned forward, aggressively closing the distance between their chairs to crowd her space. Relying on his natural height advantage and longer wingspan, Rovel stretched his arms wide, effectively shutting down her direct line of sight to the hoop.
But Wendy was far from a pushover. Her hands moved in a blur, spinning her wheels with practiced agility. She feinted left, forcing Rovel to shift his weight, before instantly pivoting right to break toward the basket. Still entirely unaccustomed to the clunky mechanics of a wheelchair, Rovel bit hard on the fake. His wheels locked up for a fraction of a second. By the time he managed to turn and give chase, Wendy had already released her shot. The ball sailed over his head and dropped neatly through the iron ring.
Rovel sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. This was going to be significantly trickier than he anticipated. Her upper body strength and court awareness were leagues beyond what he had expected.
"Underestimating me comes with a heavy price." Wendy planted her hands proudly on her hips. She seemed entirely unaware of it, but a radiant, carefree smile was steadily blooming across her cheeks, chasing away the lingering shadows in her eyes.
"Oh, is that a challenge?" Rovel caught the ball, tucking it securely against his side. "My turn on the offensive." He pushed off, weaving his chair across the painted lines, desperately searching for a viable shooting angle.
Wendy mirrored his movements flawlessly. She stuck to him like glue, her chair scraping against his as she thrust her arms upward, completely smothering his line of sight. Realizing he stood absolutely zero chance of outmaneuvering her in a battle of wheelchair handling, Rovel opted for brute force. He rolled backward to create a sliver of space, planted himself just outside the three-point line, and shoved the ball toward the basket with everything he had.
The ball sailed through the air in a pathetic arc, missing the rim, the net, and the backboard entirely. A complete airball.
Rovel slumped in his seat, exhaling a long sigh. "Generating any sort of momentum from a seated position is ridiculously hard."
Without the ability to plant his feet and drive power up through his legs, his core strength was severely restricted. It completely threw off his muscle memory, leaving him unable to gauge the proper force required for a long-distance shot.
Wendy casually rolled over to retrieve the stray ball. "My turn to attack again!" she called out, her voice ringing with competitive glee.
Rovel did not waste breath on a reply. He gritted his teeth and shoved his wheels forward, lunging aggressively in an attempt to steal the ball right out of her hands.
Using his larger frame to his advantage, he systematically bullied her toward the edge of the court. Trapped in the corner with nowhere left to maneuver, Wendy had no choice but to force a desperate shot. Rovel was waiting for it. He extended his long arms and mercilessly swatted the ball out of the air.
The moment it hit the ground, he spun his chair around and chased down the loose ball. Wendy scrambled to recover, pushing her wheels frantically to cut him off. But Rovel had already learned from his previous mistake. He adjusted his posture, recalibrated the angle of his arms, and released the ball with a smooth flick of his wrists. It sailed over Wendy's outstretched fingertips and sank into the net with a crisp swish. One point back.
His terrifying adaptability allowed him to rapidly master the bizarre mechanics of seated basketball. Yet, despite Rovel's overwhelming physical advantages, Wendy refused to yield an inch. She used her smaller size and superior agility to slip past his defenses, seizing every tiny opening to rack up points.
The screeching of rubber tires echoed across the asphalt as the two of them chased each other relentlessly from one end of the court to the other. By the time the game neared its end, both were completely drenched in sweat, slumped back in their respective wheelchairs and gasping for oxygen.
"Hoo... hoo..." Rovel dragged a sleeve across his damp forehead, glancing over at the girl beside him. "Not bad at all, Wendy."
"Hmph..." Wendy lacked the breath to form a proper sentence, but a triumphant, breathy laugh still escaped her lips.
The score stood with Wendy leading by a single point, and she currently held possession of the ball.
"This next possession decides it all." Rovel took a deep, steadying breath, his eyes locking onto the orange sphere in her lap. "Time to push it to the absolute limit."
"I am absolutely not losing to you!" Wendy declared. The competitive fire blazing in her emerald eyes was brighter than anything he had seen from her since they met.
"Come and get it, then!" Rovel challenged, spreading his arms wide like an impenetrable wall.
Wendy narrowed her eyes, calculating her angle of approach. She revved her wheels, preparing to explode past his left side.
Right at that critical moment, Rovel's gaze snapped sharply to the empty space directly behind her shoulder.
"Captain Clark?" Rovel called out, his voice laced with perfect, manufactured surprise.
"Eh?" Wendy blinked, her momentum dying instantly as she reflexively glanced over her shoulder.
That split second of hesitation was all he needed. Rovel lunged forward, his hands darting out to cleanly strip the ball from her loose grip. Before she could even register the theft, he spun his chair around, rolled straight to the basket, and banked an easy layup off the glass. The ball dropped through the net, sealing his ultimate comeback victory.
"Despicable!" Wendy shrieked, her head snapping back around. "I can't believe you would stoop to such cheap tricks!" She puffed out her cheeks, glaring daggers at his utterly unrepentant face.
"In the competitive world, this is simply known as tactical deception. All is fair in love and war." Rovel flashed a shamelessly smug grin, reveling in his stolen victory.
Infuriated by his absolute lack of shame, Wendy grabbed the bouncing basketball and hurled it directly at his face with startling velocity.
Rovel barely managed to get his hands up in time, catching the heavy ball right before it flattened his nose. He tilted his head, peering at her playfully from behind the orange leather.
"Alright, alright, I yield. Don't be mad." Rovel lowered the ball, his tone softening into something warm and comforting. "As compensation for my terrible crimes, I'll treat you to whatever you want to eat. Name your price."
Wendy's hands dropped to her lap. The vibrant energy that had animated her features just moments ago slowly began to drain away. "I... I haven't actually been outside the facility in a very long time," she murmured, her gaze dropping to her motionless legs. "I don't even know what kind of good food is out there anymore."
Rovel did not let the heavy atmosphere linger for even a second. "Then it's settled. We're getting hot pot!" he declared with absolute authority.
"Hot pot?" Wendy blinked, completely thrown off by the suggestion. "Wouldn't that be way too heavy and spicy? Besides, we literally just finished sweating through a basketball game!" She shook her head, her practical nature immediately rejecting the idea.
"Is that so? A perfectly valid point." Rovel snapped his fingers. "Then we pivot to ice cream. Go, go, go, let's move!"
Before she could process the sudden change in plans, Rovel stood up from his own chair, grabbed the handles of hers, and broke into a dead sprint toward the exit of the park.
"Wait, slow down!" Wendy shrieked, gripping the armrests for dear life. Her helpless protests were swallowed by the rushing wind, going in one of Rovel's ears and entirely out the other.
As they left the quiet confines of the court and entered the bustling commercial district, the pedestrian traffic thickened considerably. handling the bulky wheelchair through the dense sea of walking bodies quickly became a logistical nightmare.
"Rovel, maybe... maybe we should just forget it and go back." Wendy shrank back into her seat. She had anticipated this exact scenario. The weight of a dozen curious stares pressing down on her motionless legs made her skin crawl, as if she were being pricked by a thousand icy needles.
"I distinctly remember saying I was taking you to eat ice cream, and I do not go back on my word." Rovel stopped the chair. Instead of turning around, he stepped around to the front, leaned down, and smoothly scooped her up into his arms in a flawless princess carry.
"Ah! What are you doing?!" Wendy yelped. The pale complexion of her cheeks instantly flared a brilliant, furious crimson. She balled her hands into fists and began weakly drumming them against his chest in a panic.
"Oh, you don't like this carrying method?" Rovel tilted his head, feigning complete innocence. "Well then, how about we upgrade to first class..."
"Ahhh!" Wendy let out another high-pitched scream as her world suddenly spun.
In one fluid motion, Rovel hoisted her upward, settling her securely onto his broad shoulders. He gripped her slender calves firmly to keep her anchored. Terrified of tumbling backward, Wendy had absolutely no choice but to lean forward and clamp her hands tightly around his head.
Naturally, this ridiculous spectacle drew even more attention from the passing crowds. But this time, the gazes directed their way were no longer filled with uncomfortable pity or alienating curiosity. Instead, the onlookers offered amused smiles and teasing chuckles at the sight of the energetic young man carrying a flustered girl on his shoulders.
Mortified, Wendy ducked her chin, desperately trying to use her short hair as a shield to hide her burning face from the world. But from her downward vantage point, she could clearly see Rovel's eyes scanning the bustling street, entirely unbothered by the audience as he searched for their sugary prize.
"Over there," Wendy mumbled softly, pointing a trembling finger toward a colorful awning down the block.
"Target acquired. Hold on tight, the express train is departing."
As Rovel began to march forward, Wendy slowly gathered the courage to lift her head. She peered at the vibrant city streets unfolding around her. It was the first time in years she had viewed the world from such a towering perspective. The rhythmic, steady sway of Rovel's strides didn't make her feel nauseous or unstable. On the contrary, the gentle bobbing motion fed her mind a beautiful, fleeting illusion—the sensation that she was the one walking on her own two feet.
They arrived at the stall a few moments later. "Two ice cream cones, please," Rovel ordered, craning his neck slightly to look up at his passenger. "What flavor are you feeling, Wendy?"
"Matcha is fine, thank you," she replied, her voice still a bit shy.
"Alright, make that one matcha and one vanilla."
The vendor running the cart was a kind-faced elderly woman. She scooped the frozen treats into waffle cones, her eyes crinkling into warm crescents as she took in the sight of the two of them. Handing the cones over, she couldn't resist a teasing remark. "What a sweet young couple you two make."
"You think so?" Rovel beamed brightly. He even had the audacity to scratch his cheek with his free hand, putting on a flawless performance of a bashful boyfriend.
"Why are you just agreeing with her..." Wendy hissed under her breath. She reached down, grabbed a handful of his hair, and gave it a punishing little tug. Her heart, which had only just managed to settle down during the walk, was instantly thrown back into a chaotic, fluttering frenzy.
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