The men’s locker room smelled aggressively of deep heat rub, damp towels, and the sharp, metallic tang of pure adrenaline. Usually, this was Adrian’s kingdom. After a solid practice, he lived for the ambient noise of his teammates winding down—the chaotic overlap of music echoing from waterproof speakers, the slamming of metal locker doors, and the relentless, good-natured trash talk.
Today, the noise just gave him a headache.
Adrian sat on the wooden bench in front of his locker, staring blankly at the unlaced pristine white sneakers resting between his feet. A single bead of water from his wet hair slid down his neck, tracking a cold path along his spine. He hadn’t spoken a word since he walked off the court.
"I'm just saying, Ace," Jace’s voice cut through the heavy air, loud and com
