CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
ROWAN
I shouldn’t have been smiling at my phone in the middle of a library.
But Mason had that effect lately.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
Mason:
So your professor basically called you emotionally repressed?
Rowan:
She said “too safe,” which is academic for “emotionally repressed,” yes.
Mason:
Sounds like she has a point.
I stared at that.
Then immediately typed:
Rowan:
I hope you miss your next shot.
Three dots.
Stopped.
Started again.
Mason:
That’s harsh for someone who fixed my collar like we’re married.
My stomach did a stupid little flip.
I hated that sentence.
Not because it was offensive.
Because it felt too easy for him to say now.
Too familiar.
Rowan:
Don’t exaggerate.
It was five seconds of accidental domestic behavior.
Mason:
“Domestic behavior” is crazy wording.
I actually laughed out loud.
Again.
The girl across from me in the library looked like she wanted to file a complaint against my existence.
I lowered my voice.
Barely.
Rowan:
You’re distracting me.
Mason:
I’m literally at practice.
That made me pause.
Right.
Basketball.
New York showcase.
Pressure.
I hadn’t thought about it in a few hours, which was probably suspicious.
Rowan:
How’s practice?
The reply took longer this time.
Long enough that I stopped pretending I was doing work.
Mason:
Coach thinks I’m playing like shit.
Well.
That wasn’t casual.
Rowan:
Are you?
Three dots.
Stopped.
Started again.
Mason:
Maybe.
I leaned back slightly in my chair.
That was new.
Mason didn’t say things like that.
Not even to jokes.
Not even lightly.
Rowan:
That doesn’t sound like you.
Mason:
Apparently it is lately.
I didn’t like that answer.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it sounded tired.
Before I could think too much about it, I typed:
Rowan:
Want me to say something supportive or insulting?
Almost instantly:
Mason:
Insulting. It’s less suspicious.
That made me snort.
MASON
Coach was right behind me when I checked my phone again.
I felt it before I even turned.
“You texting her again?” he asked.
I didn’t even bother lying.
“Yeah.”
He stared at me for a second like he was trying to decide whether to be annoyed or impressed.
Then: “You realize you’re going to NYC in six weeks, right?”
“I know.”
“And you’re distracted.”
“I’m aware.”
Coach rubbed his face. “This isn’t high school anymore. You don’t get to half-show up.”
That landed heavier than it should’ve.
Because I was half-showing up.
Not on purpose.
But still.
I nodded once. “I’ll fix it.”
Coach didn’t look convinced. “You better.”
He walked off.
I stood there for a second longer than necessary.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Rowan.
Rowan:
Okay, insulting version:
You’re probably just tired and overthinking everything like a dramatic athlete stereotype.
I stared at it.
Then laughed under my breath.
Yeah.
That sounded like her.
ROWAN
Serena was now fully invested in my emotional downfall.
She leaned over my shoulder again. “You’re smiling again.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally are.”
“It’s called reacting to messages.”
“From Mason Reed.”
“Still messages.”
Serena grabbed my laptop. “What did he say?”
“Don’t—”
Too late.
She read it.
Then paused.
Then looked at me slowly.
“Oh.”
“What.”
“He’s not just flirting with you.”
“I never said he was flirting.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I snatched my laptop back. “You’re overthinking it.”
Serena raised an eyebrow. “Says the girl who hasn’t stopped replying for two hours.”
That… was inconveniently accurate.
MASON
Practice ended late.
Coach finally cut us loose after making us run full-court sets until nobody could breathe properly.
Locker room was loud again.
Normal chaos.
Luca was sitting on the bench scrolling through his phone when I came in.
“You’re still texting her?” he asked immediately.
“No.”
Luca held up his phone.
Rowan’s Instagram story was open.
My face apparently in the background of a blurry screenshot someone posted from campus.
Great.
“That’s not helpful,” I said.
“It’s hilarious.”
Jace walked in behind him. “Oh my God, you’re famous.”
“Please shut up.”
“Coach looked like he was about to disown you earlier,” Andre added.
“I noticed.”
“You good?” Luca asked, slightly less joking now.
That question again.
Everyone loved that question lately.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
Luca just looked at me.
Didn’t say anything.
Just looked.
Yeah.
Didn’t land.
ROWAN
I was packing up my bag when my phone buzzed again.
Mason.
Mason:
You still in the library?
I looked at the time.
Late.
Too late.
Rowan:
No.
On my way out.
Three dots.
Stopped.
Then:
Mason:
Good.
That should not have felt like anything.
But it did.
I grabbed my jacket and headed outside into the night air, still thinking about Coach’s comments from earlier.
“Too safe.”
“Emotionally repressed.”
Yeah.
Great combo.
My phone buzzed again before I even reached the street.
Mason:
Don’t walk alone back.
I stopped.
Stared at the message.
Then typed:
Rowan:
I live like ten minutes away.
Almost instantly:
Mason:
Still.
I stood there for a second.
Then:
Rowan:
You’re being bossy again.
Mason:
Yeah.
I noticed.
That made something twist in my chest in a way I didn’t fully understand yet.
I started walking.
And somehow—
it didn’t feel like I was alone.