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Sydney smiles, hearing the honesty in my voice. “Good.” She glances around. “Don’t you have class?”
“One, this afternoon.”
“Cassia left at seven this morning to go to the library before her first lab.”
I grin. “I’m sure she did.”
“Don’t flunk out, okay? This is your last year.”
“I won’t flunk out,” I promise.
“I’d better get going.”
“Okay. Text me when you’re back at the condo.”
Sydney rolls her eyes, but nods.
I drop the basketball and hold my arms open. She steps into them, releasing a ragged exhale as I squeeze her tight.
“Love you, little sis.”
“Yeah. I love you too.”
I’m in the pasta line when the third stranger tells me he can’t wait for this season. It’s weird. Having strangers weigh in on my performance. Knowing the exact expectations in place.
I’ve always played basketball for myself, not the name on the front of the jersey.
Cheers and applause don’t really register on the court. I’m focused on one goal: winning. Distractions don’t help.
But it’s hitting me a little differently this year. I want to play well so I have a chance to chase my own dreams. But I’m alsoconscious that this is possibly my last season. That this year could be as good as it gets for me.
And then there’s a terrifying whisper in the back of my head, reminding me there’s a chance I won’t play this season at all. That I already peaked, and it’s all downhill from here.
By the time I’m through the line and have my food, Cassia is already sitting at a table. I texted her after leaving the gym and showering to see if she was free for lunch.
So far, I haven’t done anything to reassure her this year will be different from last year. She said we barely saw each other all spring, and she wasn’t wrong. We haven’t even had sex since we’ve been back on campus.
There are extenuating circumstances this time. Sydney’s pregnancy. The Nolans’ divorce. My mom’s health. The blonde.
But Cassia only knows some of those secrets, so I addanother breakto the long list of things I’m currently stressed about.
She looks up from the textbook she’s flipping through when I take the seat across from her.
“No way you’re behind,” I tease. “It’s literally thefirstday of classes.”
Cassia rolls her eyes and closes the book with a thud. It’s as thick as all her science textbooks, well over a thousand pages.
“Just trying to figure out how many hours of reading I have tonight.”
I mock-shudder athours. I’m a business major, same as most athletes here to play sports, which requires plenty of reading but nowhere near the same workload Cassia carries. “How were your classes?” I ask.
She nods, taking a bite of her sandwich. Chews and swallows. “Good. Intense.”
I nod too. For so long, senior year seemed a ways away. Now, all of a sudden, it’s here. And it’s different from high school.There was some uncertainty about where I’d end up then, but nothing in comparison to all the choices stretching ahead in front of me now.
“Sydney stopped by the gym earlier.”
Cassia is focused on opening her salad. “Yeah, she said she was going to. How’d she seem?”
