Instagram.
X.
Sports blogs.
By morning, ESPN runs a headline:
Harvard Transfer Tristan Vale Commits to Stanford — Final Four Implications?
My phone detonates.
Former teammates.
High school coaches.
Guys I haven’t spoken to in years.
My father texts:
Strong move.
Which is as close to approval as I get.
That night, the team refuses to let me disappear.
We end up at one of the upperclassmen houses just off campus. Music low. Pizza boxes everywhere. Someone puts last season’s tournament run on the TV.
They treat me like I’ve been here all along.
Trash talk.
Film breakdown arguments.
Debates about who’s taking the last shot in March.
At some point the noise thins out. A few guys head inside. I step onto the back porch for air.
The California night is cool. Quiet.
Footsteps behind me.
Kane.
He leans against the railing beside me, easy. Like we’re not about to be fighting for minutes. Or for the same girl.
“Big day,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“You good?”
I glance at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugs. “New team. New system. Spotlight just doubled.”
He’s not wrong.
“And?” I ask.
