Annoying.
“He thinks everything’s about basketball,” I said finally. “Or winning. Same thing to him.”
“And you?”
Mouth of a damn sniper.
Every time.
I looked down at my drink for a second.
“I don’t know anymore.”
That one slipped out accidentally.
Rowan noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I kinda do.”
The music got louder again somewhere behind us. People yelling lyrics badly. Someone dropped a glass.
Normal party shit.
Meanwhile I was standing here saying things I usually didn’t even admit to myself.
Great.
ROWAN
He looked tired again.
Not physically.
Just done.
And suddenly the Mason everyone else saw made a lot more sense.
The control. The perfectionist crap. The constant pressure.
No wonder the guy acted like relaxing was illegal.
“You know,” I said slowly, “you’re allowed to want things outside basketball.”
Mason laughed once under his breath. “Tell my father that.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
He looked at me then.
Actually looked at me.
No walls. No sarcasm. No teasing.
