Bryant shoved open the door to the gym, the echo of voices and laughter from the café still ringing in his ears. He tossed his bag onto the bench and grabbed a basketball, slamming it against the court floor with more force than necessary.
Dribble. Slam. Shoot.
Again and again, until his muscles burned and sweat dripped down his face. But no matter how hard he tried, the image wouldn't leave his mind—Mani handing Brooklyn those roses, the way the whole room had looked at her, at them.
And the way Brooklyn had stood there, holding them, not rejecting him.
Bryant cursed under his breath, sinking down onto the bench. He dragged a hand through his hair, his chest heaving.
He'd told himself from the beginning not to get too close. Brooklyn wasn't supposed to matter this much. She was supposed to be just another project partner, another friendly face on campus.
But she wasn't.
She was the one who looked past the rumors. The one who challenged him to be better without even realizing it. The one whose smile had started to feel like oxygen.
And now Mani was dangling his feelings in front of her like some grand prize.
Bryant clenched his fists. He couldn't lose her. Not to Mani. Not to anyone.
The gym door creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. One of his teammates poked his head in. "Yo, practice isn't till tomorrow. You good, man?"
Bryant forced a casual shrug. "Yeah. Just… clearing my head."
The teammate nodded and left, but Bryant barely noticed. He sat in the quiet gym, staring at the ball in his hands, the storm inside him far from cleared.
For the first time in a long time, Bryant wasn't sure if his charm, his skill, his confidence—any of it—would be enough.
Because this wasn't a game.
This was Brooklyn.
And that changed everything.