Page 279 of Playing Dirty
Then:
Rowan:
Don’t let it go to your head, Reed.
Yeah.
I was completely screwed.
Forty Five
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
MASON
I slept like crap.
Which honestly wasn’t surprising anymore.
Between practice, my father, New York, and Rowan somehow living in my head rent-free twenty-four hours a day, my brain had officially become hostile territory.
Worse?
I woke up smiling because the last thing I saw before sleeping was:
Don’t let it go to your head, Reed.
Embarrassing.
Deeply embarrassing.
I walked into morning practice already irritated at myself.
Luca noticed immediately.
“Aw,” he said. “Loverboy’s here.”
“Say that again and I’ll break your nose.”
“That’s the spirit.”
The gym was already loud. Shoes squeaking, music playing low through the speakers, guys talking crap before drills started.
Normal.
Coach wasn’t in yet, which meant everyone was half-working and fully screwing around.
Andre tossed me a ball. “You alive today?”
“Barely.”
“That’s better than yesterday.”
Fair.
I started shooting from the wing automatically while Luca wandered beside me drinking something neon-colored that probably violated health codes.
“You texting Rowan till 2 a.m. helped your mood?” he asked.
