CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ROWAN
The word “okay” didn’t leave my head all morning.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it was useless.
It didn’t mean anything anymore in this context.
I got to campus early again, earlier than Mia, earlier than most people.
The halls were empty in that uncomfortable way where you can hear your own thoughts too clearly.
My phone stayed in my hand the entire walk.
No new messages.
That was worse than messages.
Because it meant waiting without structure.
Mia finally showed up ten minutes later, holding coffee like it was a weapon.
“You look like you didn’t sleep,” she said.
“I did.”
“That’s a lie.”
I didn’t argue.
We walked into the media lab together.
Everyone was already talking.
Not loudly.
Carefully.
That was the difference now.
Careful conversations meant something had already spread.
Professor Bennett stood at the front with her tablet.
“Before class begins,” she said, “I want to address expectations.”
That alone made the room tighten.
She continued:
“You will not chase narratives you cannot verify.”
My stomach sank slightly.
Because that wasn’t just general advice anymore.
It was directed at us.
At me.
At Mason.
MASON
Coach changed the schedule again.
We weren’t scrimmaging today.
We were sitting.
Which somehow felt worse.
“Film review,” he said.
Everyone groaned quietly.
We watched clips from yesterday.
Every mistake slowed down.
Every hesitation magnified.
Andre muttered, “I hate slow motion.”
“Slow motion is truth,” Coach replied.
Luca leaned toward me.
“You’re on every third clip,” he whispered.
“I noticed.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s not good.”
I didn’t respond.
Because I could see it.
The hesitation.
The second guessing.
The slight delay before passes.
It wasn’t big.
But at this level, nothing small stays small for long.
Coach paused the video.
“You’re playing like you’re being watched,” he said.
Silence.
He wasn’t wrong.
ROWAN
Mia shut her laptop suddenly.
“I got asked about you,” she said.
I looked up immediately.
“By who?”
“Another intern.”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted.
She continued.
“They’re saying you’re getting the athlete assignment because of… proximity bias.”
I exhaled slowly.
“That’s not true.”
“I know,” she said. “But it’s circulating.”
That word again.
Circulating.
It always meant things were already out of control.
My phone buzzed.
Mason.
Mason:
Coach says I’m distracted again.
I stared at that.
Then replied:
Rowan:
So am I.
Three dots.
Stopped.
Started again.
Mason:
That’s not helping either of us.
That landed harder than it should’ve.
Because he was right.
MASON
Luca stopped me outside the gym.
“You need to talk to her less,” he said.
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because everything you say is now part of something else.”
“That’s not how communication works.”
“Right now it is,” he said.
That annoyed me.
But I couldn’t fully argue it.
Because every conversation lately felt like it was being interpreted by someone else.
Coach joined us briefly.
“Reed,” he said. “Focus stays inside the court.”
I nodded.
But even I knew that was impossible now.
My phone buzzed.
Rowan.
Rowan:
I think they’re trying to turn us into a storyline.
I stared at that.
Then replied:
Mason:
They already did.
ROWAN
Serena was pacing again.
That meant she was building a theory.
“I think this is intentional,” she said.
“Everything is intentional in your mind.”
“No,” she said. “I mean structured pressure.”
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone benefits from the narrative.”
I paused.
“That sounds paranoid.”
“It also sounds accurate,” she said.
I didn’t respond immediately.
Because I hated that she might be right.
My phone buzzed again.
Mason.
Mason:
Coach thinks I need to cut distractions completely.
I froze slightly.
Then replied:
Rowan:
And what did you say?
Three dots.
Long pause.
Mason:
I didn’t answer.
That was new.
Mason always answered.
Even when he shouldn’t.
MASON
Coach didn’t push it further after film.
That was unusual.
Instead, he just said:
“Think about what matters.”
Then left.
That sentence followed me home.
What matters.
Basketball.
NYC.
My future.
Rowan.
That list didn’t feel clean anymore.
It felt layered.
Competing.
I sat in my car longer than usual before driving.
My phone buzzed.
Rowan.
Rowan:
This is getting heavier.
I stared at it.
Then:
Mason:
Yeah.
Mason:
It is.
No jokes.
No deflection.
Just acknowledgment.
ROWAN
Mia handed me printed notes.
“I wrote a structure for your feature responses,” she said.
“You’re not my editor.”
“I’m your survival system,” she replied.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
My phone buzzed.
Mason.
Mason:
I don’t like how quiet things are right now.
I looked at that.
He was right.
Quiet meant buildup.
Not peace.
I typed:
Rowan:
It’s not quiet.
Pause.
Rowan:
It’s waiting.
Sent.
And for the first time since everything started collapsing into itself—
that felt more accurate than anything else.