Chapter Eleven – The Almost Meeting
375 Words
New York didn’t sleep. Neither did Keisha.
The hotel room felt too small. The city lights flashed through the blinds, painting stripes across her face. She tossed, turned, grabbed her phone.
No new messages.
“Why am I waiting?” she whispered. “He probably forgot me.”
But deep down, her chest hurt because she knew Dylan hadn’t.
⸻
Dylan
The Dominican team had just finished practice in Brooklyn. His legs burned, his shirt stuck with sweat. The locker room smelled of damp wood and cleaning bleach.
One teammate slapped his back.
“Ey, hermano, you coming out tonight? Manhattan, some girls waiting.”
Dylan shook his head. “Nah, tengo cosas en la mente.”
They laughed, but he wasn’t joking. He stepped outside into the cold New York night, pulled up his hoodie, and opened i********: again. Keisha’s latest story: a blurry pic of Times Square.
His thumb hovered over reply.
He typed: “Estoy aquí también.”
Delete.
“Wanna meet?”
Delete.
“Carajo…” he muttered, shoving the phone in his pocket.
⸻
Keisha
At breakfast, the girls on her team were hyped.
“New York, baby! Let’s go shopping after practice,” Mariah chirped, pouring syrup over her pancakes.
Keisha forced a smile. “Yeah, sure.” But her heart wasn’t in it.
When the coach announced they’d train in a gym just blocks from Madison Square Garden, her fork froze.
That was where Dylan’s scrimmage was.
Her pulse quickened. “Could he…?”
The Crossroads
That afternoon, Dylan’s team bus rolled past 34th Street. From his window seat, he saw a group of girls in matching warm-up jackets crossing the street. For a second, his heart slammed against his ribs.
It’s her.
He pressed his face closer to the glass, but the bus turned the corner before he could be sure.
Keisha’s side
Her phone buzzed in her pocket while she walked with her teammates. Hands shaking, she pulled it out.
No message. Just a notification.
She sighed, but deep down, she knew. He’s here. Somewhere close.
They were both in New York.
Both breathing the same air.
Both one step away from colliding.
The red thread tightened, burning almost painful, pulling them closer… but not yet
- Writer
