The gym smelled like sweat and polished wood, every corner vibrating with the chaos of Halecrest practice. Rina leaned against the bleachers, her sketchbook forgotten in her lap, as if gravity itself had pinned her there. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not really—but something kept her rooted, kept her heart lurching every time Jace moved.
He was a storm in motion. Each pivot, each jump, each slam against the backboard was precise, relentless, and dangerously controlled. But even through the blur of drills and sweat, she could see the tension in his jaw, the slight flare of his nostrils when one of his teammates whispered something too close to her.
And whispered they did.
“You see her?” one guy muttered, loud enough for a few to hear. “She actually came to watch him.”
“Probably think
