CHAPTER TEN
MASON
I didn’t go straight to the locker room.
I should’ve.
Instead I stood by the tunnel entrance with my towel still over my shoulder, staring at nothing in particular while my heart did that annoying thing it only ever did around one person lately.
Rowan Hayes.
She was still on the court talking to Serena.
Notebook tucked under her arm. Hair slightly messy from the humidity in the gym. Focused again like she hadn’t just said something that had been sitting in my chest wrong since practice ended.
You ignored me.
It shouldn’t have landed like that.
It did.
“Bro,” Jace said, appearing beside me like a pest. “You look like you just lost a custody battle.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you’re doing the jaw thing.”
“What jaw thing.”
“The one where you’re pretending you’re not thinking about something you’re absolutely thinking about.”
I didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
Jace followed my gaze instantly.
“Oh,” he said slowly. “It’s her.”
“Shut up.”
“No, no, I get it now. This is not casual hate anymore.”
“It was never hate.”
“That’s worse.”
I finally started walking toward the locker room. “Drop it.”
Jace kept pace anyway. “So what happened?”
“She left her coffee at the café.”
Jace stopped walking.
Dead stop.
I kept going for two steps before realizing he wasn’t beside me anymore.
I turned.
He was staring at me like I’d just confessed to a crime.
“You remembered that?” he asked.
“It was sitting there.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I exhaled sharply. “Yes, I remembered.”
Jace’s face broke into a grin so wide it pissed me off immediately.
“Oh my GOD,” he said. “You’re cooked.”
“I’m not.”
“You remembered a girl’s abandoned coffee.”
“It was weird.”
“That’s romantic, idiot.”
“It’s literally not.”
“It is in a very emotionally unavailable sports romance coded way.”
I walked away again.
Faster this time.
Behind me, I heard him laughing.
—
Locker rooms after practice were always loud in a different way.
Less chaos. More noise that didn’t matter.
Showers running.
Benches slamming.
Music too loud for no reason.
I sat down at my stall and stared at my hands for a second longer than necessary.
Rowan hadn’t looked at me when I left.
But she also hadn’t stopped watching when I turned away.
I’d felt that part.
Which was worse.
“Reed,” Coach called from across the room. “Film review in twenty.”
“Yeah,” I called back.
Normal.
Everything normal.
Except my phone buzzed.
Dad.
Of course.
I ignored it.
Buzz again.
Ignored again.
Jace leaned over the bench behind me, already half dressed.
“You gonna answer that or keep pretending it’s not real life?”
“It can wait.”
“That’s new.”
I shot him a look.
He held up his hands. “Relax, I’m observing.”
I stood up, grabbed my bag.
“Rowan coming tomorrow?” Niko asked from somewhere near the showers.
“I don’t know.”
“You checked,” Jace said immediately.
“I didn’t check anything.”
“You know her schedule.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” Eli added calmly, walking past.
I stared at both of them.
Traitors.
—
That night I didn’t sleep much.
Not because of basketball.
Not because of my dad.
Not even because of scouts or pressure or anything normal.
Because every time I closed my eyes I kept replaying stupid small things:
her knee touching mine at the café
her saying “you’re here” like it mattered
her leaving without her coffee
me remembering it
Ridiculous.
At 2:13 a.m. I gave up and got out of bed.
My apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
I opened the fridge, stared into it like it owed me answers, then shut it again.
Phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
you always this dramatic at night or just when you can’t sleep?
I stared at it.
Already knew.
Rowan.
Of course.
I typed back:
you always text people who are trying to sleep?
Three dots appeared instantly.
you’re not asleep
I leaned against the counter, exhaled through my nose.
She was right.
what do you want, Hayes?
A longer pause this time.
Long enough that I actually looked at the screen twice.
Then:
nothing
just confirming you’re annoying 24/7
I almost laughed out loud in an empty kitchen.
Almost.
Then:
confirmed
I sent it.
Three dots again.
Then:
goodnight, reed
I should’ve stopped there.
Should’ve left it.
Instead I typed:
you coming to tomorrow’s interview?
Pause.
Longer.
Then:
unfortunately yes
I stared at that for a second longer than necessary.
Something about it felt like a challenge.
Or a warning.
Or both.
I typed:
try not to hate me too much
Her reply came instantly:
no promises
And that—
that did it.
I put my phone down.
Because whatever this was starting to turn into wasn’t something I could control anymore.
And I didn’t like not being in control.
Not even a little.
Especially not with her.