The email came after last period. My school account pinged with a notification, and I almost deleted it without reading. Just another school announcement, I thought.
Except it wasn’t.
It was from a D1 school in Boston. The coach had seen my game footage. “Explosive speed, tactical vision, exceptional field presence.” They wanted me to visit campus. Tour the locker room. Talk scholarships.
I stared at the screen like it might burst into flames.
My hands were shaking.
Then came another.
And another.
Three schools. One day. Real ones. Not just “dream big” posters in a guidance counselor's office. These were the kind of offers girls trained their whole lives for.
I looked up. Shani had seen my face.
“What is it?” she whispered.
I turned the screen.
Her eyes widened. “Holy?—”
“Shhh!”
I ran to the courtyard, fingers numb. Dialed Leo. He was at his private basketball coach’s gym.
“You good?” he answered, voice low and amused.
“Can you meet me? Soon? Maybe tonight?”
“I’m almost done here. Then I’ll shower. Pick you up at seven?”
“I’ll be ready.”
I jumped in his car, slammed the door, turned the screen to him and whispered, “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
He read the email. Then another. And another.
Then looked at me.
“Baby,” he said. “You’re a fucking rocket ship.”
I laughed through the tears. “You think?”
“Iknow.And I get a front-row seat. Best damn view in the world.”
He drove us to our spot. High above the ocean where the waves crashed against jagged rocks.
No words. Just stars and open water.
We opened the back gate of his car again. Pulled out the blanket. Curled up like spoons. His breath in my hair. My head on his chest.
“Do you think this is real?” I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head. “I think this is the realest thing I’ve ever had.”
And for the first time in forever, I let myself believe it.
