Location: The Vixen’s afterparty Date: August 5 Time: 12:04am (closed to @asterlingfox)
Typically, Grant saw the rest of the team as allies. Wymack was known for taking Foxes from strange places, but as long as someone truly gave the game their all, Grant wouldn’t judge them. Despite what half the team might think, this year would be about the Foxes against the world, not against one another.
Sterling was a reliable player, confident and hardworking on the court, with dedication to the sport and a competitive streak that rivaled Grant’s own. In theory, they should’ve had all the makings for friendship. In practice, they were...perhaps a bit too similar. Grant couldn’t even remember when it had started, but over the years he’d found himself determined to beat Sterling at any number of challenges—the most laps, the heaviest deadlifts, the fastest reaction time on the court.
It was absurd and childish, but neither of them were willing to back down, evidently. Not until someone was declared the clear winner of their varied, and ongoing, competition at least.
Technically, he had no intentions of finding his way into another ridiculous contest. That didn’t stop him from finding his way over to Sterling when the party proved to be as boring as he’d predicted. “Sterling,” he said, nodding by way of greeting. “I’m sure you, at least, didn’t slack this summer.”