CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
ROWAN
Subject line:
NYC PRE-PLACEMENT EVENT — TEAM ASSIGNMENTS
I read it three times before it made sense.
Then a fourth time because it still didn’t feel real.
Mia leaned over my shoulder before I even said anything.
“Oh,” she said slowly. “That’s not good.”
“What do you mean ‘not good’?”
She pointed at the screen.
“Collaborative field pairing with athletic media division interns.”
I frowned. “So?”
Mia looked at me like I was missing something obvious.
“So you’re not just doing journalism now.”
A pause.
“You’re assigned to cover athletes.”
That landed late.
Not slowly.
Late.
Because my brain immediately filled in the blank before I even finished reading the list of names.
I scrolled down.
And there it was.
REED, MASON — ATHLETIC PROFILE ASSIGNMENT (NYC PRE-FEATURE TRACK)
My stomach dropped.
Not dramatically.
Just… cleanly.
Like something had been placed where it didn’t belong.
Mia made a low whistle. “That’s going to be… interesting.”
I didn’t answer.
Because “interesting” wasn’t the word I was thinking.
MASON
Coach didn’t even explain it.
He just threw the printed sheet onto the bench.
“Media pairings came in,” he said.
That alone made everyone tense up.
Media meant exposure.
Exposure meant pressure.
Luca grabbed the sheet first.
Then laughed.
“Oh no.”
I looked up immediately. “What.”
He didn’t answer.
He just handed it to me.
My eyes scanned once.
Stopped.
REED, MASON — FEATURE INTERVIEW / NYC PRE-PLACEMENT MEDIA SERIES
Assigned journalist: ROWAN (INTERN)
Silence.
Not loud silence.
Worse.
Locker-room silence.
Andre broke it first. “Oh that’s actually insane.”
Jace snorted. “That’s scripted. That has to be scripted.”
Coach walked past us. “It’s not.”
Luca looked at me carefully.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s going to be a problem.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I already knew it was.
ROWAN
Serena was the first person I told.
Bad idea.
Immediately.
She stared at the email.
Then at me.
Then at the email again.
“Oh my God,” she said.
“It’s just an assignment.”
“It is NOT just an assignment.”
“It literally is.”
She leaned back slowly.
“You’re going to be around him in New York.”
“Yes.”
“For work.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me that’s normal.”
I didn’t answer.
Because it wasn’t.
Not really.
Serena grabbed my arm.
“This is how things get messy,” she said.
“It’s professional.”
She laughed.
“No,” she said. “It’s the opposite of professional. It’s proximity with expectations.”
That phrase stayed in my head longer than I wanted it to.
Proximity with expectations.
Yeah.
That sounded accurate.
Too accurate.
MASON
I texted her before I even thought about it.
Mason:
Did you get the assignment email?
Three dots.
Stopped.
Started again.
Rowan:
Yes.
Short.
Careful.
That alone told me enough.
I stood outside the gym, phone in hand, ignoring Luca calling my name behind me.
Mason:
This is going to be annoying.
Rowan:
I agree.
Pause.
Mason:
Coach is already acting like it’s a test.
Rowan:
It probably is.
That made me exhale through my nose.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
ROWAN
I walked back to campus slower than usual.
Not because I had time.
Because I didn’t like the direction my thoughts were going.
Mason wasn’t just a distraction anymore.
That was the issue.
This assignment made it structured.
Official.
Real.
My phone buzzed again.
Mason.
Mason:
Don’t let them turn it into something it’s not.
I stopped walking.
Stared at that.
Then typed:
Rowan:
What is it then?
Three dots.
Longer than before.
Stopped.
Started again.
Mason:
I don’t know yet.
That was the first uncertain answer he’d given me that didn’t sound like avoidance.
It sounded like truth.
MASON
Coach noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
I was off during drills.
Again.
Not bad.
Just… divided.
“Reed,” he called after practice. “Inside.”
I followed him into the office.
He shut the door.
No chairs this time.
Just standing.
“That assignment,” he said.
I didn’t pretend not to know.
“Yeah.”
He nodded once.
“Careful.”
That surprised me.
I frowned. “Careful how?”
Coach crossed his arms.
“Media creates stories. Athletes live inside them.”
A pause.
“She’s going to write what she sees.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I already knew that too.
Coach continued:
“And you’re not great at being seen when you’re not in control.”
That one hit harder than the others.
Because it was accurate.
ROWAN
Mia didn’t talk much during lunch.
Which meant she was thinking.
Which meant I should be nervous.
“You’re going to have to write about him objectively,” she said finally.
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you know.”
“I do.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You already don’t look objective.”
That annoyed me.
“Because I’m not allowed to have opinions now?”
“You’re allowed,” she said. “Just not obvious ones.”
That was the problem.
My phone buzzed.
Mason.
Mason:
Coach thinks this is going to mess with my head.
I stared at it.
Then replied:
Rowan:
Is it?
Three dots.
Stopped.
Started again.
Mason:
Yeah.
No hesitation.
No avoidance.
Just honesty.
That made it worse.
MASON
That night, I didn’t go to the gym.
Didn’t shoot.
Didn’t think.
Just sat in my room with my phone on my knee.
Luca called twice.
Ignored.
Coach texted once.
Ignored.
Rowan didn’t text again for a while.
Then:
Rowan:
This feels like a setup.
I stared at that.
Because it did.
Not in a dramatic way.
In a structural way.
Like something had been placed in our path on purpose.
I typed:
Mason:
It is.
Pause.
Then added:
Mason:
We just don’t know for what yet.
ROWAN
I lay in bed later staring at the ceiling.
Serena had fallen asleep mid-rant again.
My phone lit up one last time.
Mason.
Mason:
Tomorrow’s going to be worse again.
I stared at it.
Then:
Rowan:
You keep saying that.
Mason:
Because it keeps being true.
I didn’t reply immediately.
Because I was starting to understand something I didn’t like.
NYC wasn’t the event anymore.
It was the pressure cooker.
And something had just been added inside it.
Something external.
Something that looked like a task…
But felt like a trigger.