CHAPTER SIXTY
NYC
The airport felt too bright.
That was the first thing.
Too loud.
Too full.
Like everything had already started moving before we even arrived.
Coach didn’t say much.
Neither did anyone else.
Even Andre wasn’t joking.
That’s when I knew it was real.
Mason sat a few rows away from me in the waiting area.
Not next to me.
Not far.
Just… separated enough to pretend this was still normal.
My phone buzzed.
Mason.
Mason:
You there yet?
I looked up slightly.
Saw him already looking at his screen too.
Typing.
Rowan:
Yeah.
Pause.
Rowan:
You?
Mason:
Yeah.
That was it.
No buildup.
No cushioning.
Just arrival.
Coach called us.
Boarding.
That word felt heavier than it should’ve.
MASON
Plane seats weren’t designed for thinking.
Which was a problem.
Because that’s all I did.
Rowan sat across the aisle.
Not next to me.
Close enough to see.
Far enough to feel intentional.
Coach leaned back and closed his eyes.
First time I’d ever seen him do that.
Luca nudged me.
“This is it,” he said quietly.
I nodded.
But I wasn’t looking at him.
I was looking at the fact that everything we had been building toward—
was no longer ahead of us.
It was happening.
My phone buzzed one last time before takeoff.
Rowan.
Rowan:
Don’t overthink it.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Typed:
Mason:
Too late.
Plane lights dimmed.
Engines shifted.
And for the first time—
NYC wasn’t the goal anymore.
It was the impact.