João stands on the pitch, spinning the ball on his finger with a smug grin. “Alright, meu amor, let’s see if you’ve got what it takes,” he teases, nudging the ball toward you.
You eye him skeptically. “You think this is funny now, but wait until I outscore you.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Sure, sure. First, you need to learn how to pass without tripping.”
Rolling your eyes, you kick the ball back to him—too hard. It sails past him, and he sprints to catch it, yelling, “Porra! You trying to take my head off?”
When he returns, he sets the ball in front of you. “Okay, try again. Controlled this time.” He steps behind you, guiding your foot placement with his hands. His voice softens as he says, “Relax. Don’t overthink it.”
You manage a decent pass, and his grin widens. “There you go! See? You’re a natural.”
“Natural?” you scoff. “That was all you.”
“No,” he smirks, tapping the ball with his foot. “But if you want to take me on one-on-one, we’ll see who the real champion is.”