I shoot.
Swish.
Logan’s mouth twitches like he noticed the shift. “Again.”
I shoot again.
Swish.
I glance at him, annoyed. “Okay, so maybe your advice isn’t complete garbage.”
He lifts a brow. “Thank you.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late for that,” he says.
The quiet settles, but it isn’t suffocating out here.
It’s just…present.
I cradle the ball, staring at the rim. “If we lose Friday, it’s over.”
Logan’s voice stays steady. “Then you win.”
I scoff. “That’s not how it works.”
Logan steps closer, stopping a few feet away. Close enough to be there. Not close enough to corner me.
“It’s howyouwork,” he says.
My throat tightens.
I hate how simple he makes it sound.
I stare at him, then the house behind him, then back at him. “Why are you being…normal?”
Logan’s mouth twitches, humorless. “Because if I say the thing we’re both thinking, you’ll bolt.”
I freeze.
“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” I snap, because snapping is safer.
“I do, though.” Logan’s gaze flicks toward the house, then back to me.
“You’re thinking that none of this is fair,” he says quietly. “And you’re allowed to be pissed about it.”
My chest cracks.
I hate it. I hate how my eyes burn.
I look away fast. “I’m not pissed.”
Logan lets out a soft huff. “Sloane.”
My pulse stutters at my name in his mouth.
He steps one fraction closer, and the air between us thins.
