As Leo Alvarez's grades begin to slip, so does his facade as the school's golden boy. Much to his surprise, he ends up finding solace in the last place he'd expect, in his tutor― Maya Chopra.
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HIS HAZEL EYES WATCHED as the basketball released from his rough fingers and glided through the air. He unintentionally held his breath, a habit that had developed a long time ago at his first try out. It helped sooth the nervousness that would sporadically develop whenever he launched a shot.
His eyes began to narrow with each passing second; his hands suddenly dropped to his side as he froze, anticipating the result of his action.
The sound of the basketball hitting the backboard echoed through the still night and he resisted the urge to growl in annoyance. As the ball bounced against the pavement, that his brothers' had laid down three summers ago in their backyard, Leonardo 'Leo' Alvarez felt the frustration inside him begin to grow.
There were a lot of things that were contributing to his restlessness; the stinging sensation that coursed through his left cheek was one of those factors, along with the incident that occurred because of her that caused the bruise to form.
His hands hastily grabbed the ball mid-air as soon as it had reached within his proximity. The ridged exterior of it almost faded away from his senses as he began to apply pressure as an act of catharsis. His fingers tensed up but he did not let go.
His Ma often told him that whenever he was frustrated, he reminded her of his father.
It was in the way that their eyes would both narrow and they became unexpectedly silent. Their minds would whiz around like a tornado, contemplating on what to say and what to hold back.
However, of all the memories that he had in his possession of his Pa, which he felt like were never quite enough, he always appeared to be a radiant man in Leo's eyes.
The indignation that his Ma mentioned regarding his Pa was lost on Leo.
His father was the type of man Leo always wished to grow up to be.
His eyes fixated themselves on the ball as he began to dribble it, harder than usual. He practiced what his Coach had taught him during their first game in his sophomore year, slow, deep breaths. It was a breathing exercise that aided in his ability to focus.
Leo found it strange that whenever he played basketball, his breathing, rather than his capabilities, was what he found fault in.
The art of basketball was something that he developed a taste for in his early teenage years. The majority of Leo's childhood consisted of rounding up the neighborhood kids and participating in some form of games that would be exerted until the sunset far beyond the horizon and he could see his Ma standing on the driveway, waving for him to come home.
It wasn't until for this twelfth birthday, when his eldest brother, Mateo, gifted Leo with a basketball. It wasn't one of the Spalding basketballs that he often saw in the NBA, or even now during his games, but, a last-minute effort from Mateo who had forgotten his birthday once more.
