CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
MASON
Coach called it “simulation week.”
Which meant everything was now treated like NYC had already started.
No warmups.
No easing in.
Just pressure.
Constant.
We ran full scrimmages back-to-back until the gym smelled like sweat and frustration.
Andre slammed the ball after missing a shot. “This is insane.”
“It’s preparation,” Coach said flatly.
“It’s torture,” Luca muttered.
Coach heard him. “Good.”
That shut everyone up again.
Except me.
Because I wasn’t just playing through drills anymore.
I was watching myself play.
And that was the problem.
Half a second late.
One pass too cautious.
One hesitation too long.
Coach blew the whistle again.
“Reed.”
I stopped immediately.
“You’re thinking too much.”
“I know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I wiped my face with my towel.
“It’s what’s happening.”
Coach stepped closer.
“You don’t survive New York by thinking.”
A pause.
“Neither does she.”
That hit harder than expected.
I looked up.
“You don’t know her.”
Coach shrugged. “I know the type.”
Then he walked away.
ROWAN
Mia slammed her laptop shut.
“I’m going insane,” she announced.
“That’s new?”
“No, but it’s worse today.”
We were in the media lab again, except now it felt like everyone was silently competing for oxygen.
NYC placements had turned campus into a pressure cooker.
People were polite, but barely.
Smiles felt sharp.
Compliments felt strategic.
Professor Bennett didn’t even pretend it wasn’t intentional.
“You should all be uncomfortable,” she said from the front. “If you’re not, you’re already behind.”
That was comforting in a horrifying way.
After class, Mia grabbed my arm.
“You’ve changed,” she said.
“I literally haven’t.”
“You have.”
“How?”
“You keep checking your phone like it’s going to explain your future to you.”
I didn’t answer that.
Because I couldn’t.
MASON
Luca threw a water bottle at me after practice.
I caught it without looking.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what.”
“That thing where you disappear in your head during games.”
“I’m not disappearing.”
“You are.”
I twisted the cap off the bottle.
“Coach says I’m thinking too much.”
Luca laughed once. “Coach says that every week.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“It’s not supposed to.”
We sat on the bench for a second.
Gym mostly empty now.
Just echoes.
My phone buzzed.
Rowan.
Rowan:
Are you still alive or did Coach kill you today?
I exhaled slightly.
Mason:
Barely survived.
Rowan:
Same.
That made me pause.
Same again.
It kept happening.
Like we were syncing without trying.
ROWAN
Serena was pacing my room like she was preparing for war.
“I think you’re in trouble,” she said.
“I’m in an internship.”
“No.”
She pointed at me.
“You’re in whatever this is.”
I leaned back against my bed. “Define this.”
She stopped pacing.
“That thing where you stop talking to people normally and start talking to one person like they’re the only stable object in your life.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s accurate.”
My phone buzzed.
Mason.
Mason:
Coach says I need to stop hesitating.
I stared at it.
Then:
Rowan:
He’s probably right.
Three dots.
Stopped.
Started again.
Mason:
Yeah.
Mason:
But I don’t know what I’m hesitating about.
That made something shift slightly in my chest.
Not romantic.
Not simple.
Just… awareness.
MASON
I didn’t like being confused.
That was the issue.
Basketball was supposed to be simple.
Read.
React.
Win.
But now everything felt like it had layers underneath it I couldn’t see fast enough.
Luca sat beside me in the locker room after.
“You’re not okay,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I didn’t argue this time.
Because I was tired.
My phone buzzed again.
Rowan.
Rowan:
I think we’re both waiting for something to click.
I stared at that longer than I should’ve.
Because that was exactly it.
Something not said out loud.
Just felt.
Mason:
Yeah.
Mason:
I think so too.
ROWAN
The city outside my window felt louder than usual.
Or maybe I was just noticing it more.
Mia had left hours ago.
Serena too.
It was just me now.
Phone in hand.
Mason’s messages open.
I typed:
Rowan:
Do you think NYC changes things?
Paused.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Rowan:
Never mind.
Then stopped.
Because my phone buzzed before I could send anything else.
Mason.
Mason:
Yes.
I froze.
Then read it again.
Mason:
It already is.
I sat there for a long moment.
Not replying.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I didn’t know what would come next if I did.
And for the first time since all of this started—
that felt like the real question.
MASON
Coach didn’t stop at saying I was thinking too much.
He made me prove it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
We ran sets until the gym stopped feeling like a place and started feeling like a loop—same plays, same mistakes, same corrections.
Andre finally snapped on a break.
“This isn’t training anymore, it’s punishment.”
Coach didn’t even look at him. “Then stop getting punished.”
Silence dropped again.
That was the thing about Coach—he didn’t raise his voice because he didn’t need to. He just made everything feel unavoidable.
I wiped my face with my towel, breathing hard.
Luca came up beside me, quieter than usual.
“You’re off,” he said.
“I know.”
“That’s the first time you didn’t argue that.”
“Yeah.”
He studied me for a second.
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer.
Not because I didn’t know.
Because I didn’t want it to be that simple.
Coach blew the whistle again.
“Reed. Again.”
I pushed off immediately.
But now it wasn’t just basketball anymore.
It was everything layered together.
NYC.
Pressure.
My father’s expectations I hadn’t answered in two days.
And Rowan.
Always Rowan.
ROWAN
Mia stopped me in the hallway outside Bennett’s office.
“You didn’t submit your revised draft,” she said.
“I know.”
“That’s not like you.”
I shrugged slightly. “I’m distracted.”
“That also isn’t like you.”
That part stung a little.
Because she was right.
I leaned against the wall while people walked past us.
NYC posters were everywhere now—internship deadlines, placements, schedules.
Everything felt louder.
Closer.
Mia lowered her voice.
“You’re thinking about him again.”
It wasn’t even a question.
I sighed. “It’s not like that.”
“It is like that,” she said calmly. “Just not in a way you understand yet.”
That sentence sat uncomfortably in my head as I walked back to my desk.
Because I didn’t have a counterargument.
Which annoyed me.
MASON
Practice ended late again.
Nobody spoke much on the way out.
Even Luca was quiet.
That was never good.
I stayed behind longer than usual.
Just sitting on the bleachers, water bottle half-empty, staring at the court.
Coach came out of his office eventually.
He didn’t sit next to me this time.
Just stood near the sideline.
“You’re overcorrecting,” he said.
“I’m trying to fix it.”
“That’s the problem.”
I frowned slightly. “Fixing it is bad?”
“Fixing it blindly is.”
I looked up at him.
He nodded once toward the court.
“You’re reacting instead of reading. That’s why you’re late.”
A pause.
“And off.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
Coach looked at me for a second longer than usual.
“Stop trying to control everything at once.”
That landed.
Harder than I expected.
Because it wasn’t just basketball.
It was everything I was holding too tightly.
ROWAN
Serena was lying on my bed scrolling through my phone again like it was a shared device.
“You’re texting him less,” she said.
“I have work.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
She held up my phone.
Mason’s chat was open.
Last message still unread for longer than usual.
That felt… wrong.
Serena pointed at it.
“You see that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re hesitating.”
“I’m not hesitating.”
“You are emotionally buffering.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means you’re thinking too much before replying.”
I grabbed my phone back.
“You’re obsessed with this.”
“I’m observant.”
“You’re invasive.”
She shrugged. “Same thing.”
My phone buzzed again before I could respond.
Mason.
Mason:
You busy?
I stared at it longer than I meant to.
Then replied:
Rowan:
Always.
That was automatic.
Safe.
But it didn’t feel honest anymore.
MASON
I sat in my car outside the gym for ten minutes before turning the engine on.
Not because I was tired.
Because I didn’t want to go home yet.
Home meant silence.
And silence meant thinking.
Thinking meant everything I was avoiding.
My phone buzzed.
Rowan.
Rowan:
Always.
I stared at it.
Then typed:
Mason:
You ever get the feeling everything is about to change but nobody says it out loud?
I didn’t expect a fast reply.
But she responded almost immediately.
Rowan:
Yes.
That alone made me sit up slightly.
Mason:
Good.
Then paused.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Mason:
That’s happening, right?
Three dots appeared.
Long pause.
Stopped.
Started again.
Rowan:
I think it already did.
I stared at that.
Because that was exactly what I’d been trying not to say.
ROWAN
I didn’t know why I sent that.
It just came out before I could filter it.
Serena was watching me carefully now.
“You look different,” she said.
“Stop saying that.”
“You do.”
“How?”
“You’re not reacting to things normally anymore.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does,” she said simply. “You just don’t like it.”
My phone buzzed again.
Mason.
Mason:
I don’t like it either.
I froze slightly.
Then read it again.
He didn’t like it either.
That mattered more than it should’ve.
Because it meant I wasn’t imagining the shift.
It was mutual.
MASON
Luca called me after I got home.
Which was rare.
“You’re not answering Coach,” he said immediately.
“I will.”
“No you won’t.”
I didn’t argue.
Because I hadn’t.
Silence on the line for a second.
Then Luca said something softer.
“You’re not falling apart.”
I frowned. “Coach said that too.”
“Yeah,” Luca replied. “But you’re not listening to him either.”
I leaned back against my bed.
“Then what am I doing?”
Luca didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“You’re transitioning.”
“Into what?”
Another pause.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it’s not just basketball anymore.”
That stayed with me after the call ended.
Because he was right.
And I hated that I didn’t know how to stop it.
ROWAN
I sat by the window that night longer than I meant to.
Phone in hand.
Mason’s last message still open.
Everything already feels different.
That line kept repeating in my head.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it was accurate.
And accuracy was harder to ignore than emotion.
My phone buzzed one more time.
Mason.
Mason:
Tomorrow’s going to be worse.
I stared at it.
Then replied:
Rowan:
Probably.
A pause.
Then:
Mason:
Goodnight.
I hesitated.
Then:
Rowan:
Goodnight.
And for the first time since NYC started feeling real—
it didn’t feel like the end of a conversation.
It felt like the calm before impact.