Well.
That was humiliatingly accurate.
MASON
The locker room emptied slowly after practice.
Luca was still sitting on the bench beside his locker scrolling through his phone when I came back from showering.
“You know,” he said casually, “most people handle emotional crises with drinking.”
“I’m not having an emotional crisis.”
“You missed six rotations today.”
“I was distracted.”
“That’s literally the problem.”
I slammed my locker shut harder than necessary.
Luca looked up finally. “You like her. Just admit it and move on.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why?”
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
Because I didn’t actually have a clean answer anymore.
Luca nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“You’re welcome.”
My phone buzzed in my bag.
Dad.
Again.
Fantastic.
I stared at the screen for a second before answering.
“What.”
“Coach called me.”
Of course he did.
I leaned back against the lockers. “That’s weird considering I’m not twelve.”
“You think this is a joke?”
