Finally—
Mason turned.
Not toward me.
Not directly.
Just shifting his gaze across the court.
Passing over everything like he was searching for something and refusing to admit it.
Then his eyes landed on me.
And stopped.
No smile.
No smirk.
Just… still.
Like the rest of the gym didn’t exist for a second.
My grip tightened on my pen.
There it was again.
That pull.
The awareness.
The problem.
He didn’t move toward me.
Didn’t acknowledge me.
Just held it for a beat too long.
Then looked away first.
And that—
that did something worse than attention ever had.
Because ignoring me wasn’t distance.
It was choice.
“Rowan,” Daniel said again, sharper this time. “Focus.”
“I am focused.”
I wasn’t.
Mason grabbed a water bottle, unscrewed it slowly, and took a long drink without looking anywhere near me again.
Like I wasn’t even in the building.
