I glance toward the parking lot.
“There’s an all-night diner on El Camino.”
He nods once.
“Let’s go.”
Neon lights.
Vinyl booths.
Smells like coffee and grease and 3 a.m. decisions.
We sit across from each other like we’re negotiating a treaty.
For a minute, neither of us speaks.
Then I do.
“I didn’t come here to mess with the team.”
Kane leans back slightly.
“Good.”
“I want that Final Four berth,” I continue. “You run the floor. I anchor the paint. We’ve got symmetry.”
He nods slowly.
“We do.”
“But I’m not going to pretend Stella doesn’t matter.”
There it is.
Cards on the table.
Kane studies me.
“You two were serious?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I drag a hand through my hair.
“We were kids. Same prep school. She was scholarship. I was…” I gesture vaguely.
“Royalty,” he fills in dryly.
“Yeah.”
I tell him everything.
The flirting.
The hallway looks.
