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Nothing between me and Maya had been made particularly clear.

I was still riding the very thin line of going in whatever direction she wanted to go in.

I was worried I might overstep or make her uncomfortable.

I was also worried about my ability to make time to foster something new in general.

Even if we both liked each other, finding time to spend together was hard.

The last thing I needed was to drag out the courting phase until graduation, only to realize it was never going to be anything in the first place.

Some people liked the companionship and didn’t mind the idea of having a fling or two on the side to keep them busy. But I’d grown up an only child; I didn’t need the company of anyone else. My team was enough social interaction for me.

After finishing my reps—suddenly motivated to do them a little faster than usual—I rewarded myself with checking my phone.

Any recs for someone looking to get into basketball media?

I cleared my throat, turning my music down so I could focus on the text and read it over and over again as if committing it to memory.

Even though we’d only met a handful of times, I read the text message in her voice.

I could picture the way her mouth would form each word, practically hear the slight, ever-present smile she always had on her face.

I put my phone down and finished the rest of my workout before responding. I wanted to take my time thinking up a response, and also didn’t want to get in the habit of throwing everything to the side as soon as a girl texted me. Even if that girl was Maya.

Finally, as GJ and I were both rounding out our usual workouts, I picked up my phone again.

Have you seen Love there’d been no reason for her to go otherwise.

But that didn’t mean I’d be able to actually maintain her interest. It was hard when my entire life revolved around basketball.

I had a completely different college experience from everyone else.

And a lot of it—the dedication to practicing and working out, brand deals, being ready to move anywhere based on who signed me—was stuff that I didn’t expect someone who wasn’t a basketball fan to understand or care about.

“I…I don’t know, man.”

But as I said it, my phone vibrated again. That should’ve been the caption of our photo. Missed opportunity .

I fought off a grin so GJ wouldn’t see it as GJ slapped a hand to my shoulder. “Don’t let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t play baseball.”

Once GJ and I wrapped up our workouts, we headed back home. GJ went off to do whatever the fuck GJ did outside of basketball—definitely not classwork—and I sat down to study.

After getting some of my reading for one of my marketing classes done, I leaned back into the shitty second—and probably third, fourth, and fifth—hand couch in my living room.

I pulled out my phone and looked over the messages between us, something I told myself I was only allowed to do when I finished my work.

Keeping that in mind for when we hard launch , I wrote in response to her joke about how our viral photo should’ve been captioned. It’d taken me a few drafts to get to a message that felt right and it was when GJ and I were walking home that I finally thought of that one.

As much as I hated to admit it, GJ had been right. I needed to lean in .

Unlike with our other responses, Maya had been quick to get back to me. I’d barely made it to my front door by the time my phone was vibrating again. The girls are gonna hate me for this. Someone who doesn’t even watch basketball bagging the future first draft pick? I’m their worst nightmare.

Maya teasing me about it was the only time I didn’t mind someone talking to me about getting drafted.

It normally made me anxious and uneasy, like everyone was jinxing it for me.

But when Maya said it—even in writing—I suddenly felt like the hot shit I was probably supposed to feel like all the time, not just on the court.

They’ll never know you don’t watch basketball. I’ll be sure to show you the ropes.

I’d forced myself to put my phone down after that point.

I was stupidly nervous to see what she was going to say in response, and needed the distraction of school work, so I didn’t stare at my phone until she responded.

I’d even silenced my phone, hoping it would cut back on my temptation to pick it up.

But that had been two hours ago; I hadn’t heard from her since. I sighed. Maybe the text had come across as too forward, and I was never going to hear from her again.

I nearly rolled my eyes at myself. I needed to take a deep breath. It wasn’t that serious.

But even though my brain could process the situation logically, I couldn’t seem to get my body to agree.

Throughout the rest of the late afternoon into the evening, I kept glancing over at my phone and hoped a text would pop up.

I reminded myself that it was the weekend and she could be out doing anything.

Her priority probably wasn’t texting me; it was fine. We didn’t know each other.

But even so, I kept looking at my darkened phone screen as if I could get a response out of her that way.

Finally, as I was about to head out for a quick evening run and then go to bed early for the game tomorrow, my phone vibrated. When I saw that it was Maya who had texted, I tried to force myself not to immediately pick up my phone, but failed miserably.

All this talk and no action , she wrote back. It took me a second to figure out what she was saying. But the second I understood, I had to resist celebrating in a way that would probably get me an unsportsmanlike tech on the court.

And then I remembered that getting Maya to want to hang out—not only want to hang out, but initiate the conversation around us hanging out—was only the first part of the battle. The second part, which was finding the time to hang out, was much harder.

I weighed my options, mentally going over my calendar in my head.

I had the game tomorrow at three in the afternoon, meaning there would be a pre-game locker room meet-up and a pre-game warm-up before then to make time for.

Afterwards, I’d probably spend time with at least a few of the people on the team, so Sunday was pretty much a wash.

I was traveling a few days next week for games—Texas on Wednesday and Iowa over the weekend—and would have to spend time in between that in classes and tutoring, and making up classwork.

There were places I could fit her in, but I wasn’t sure it would be easy. If Maya’s schedule didn’t have any flexibility, it would be nearly impossible. And besides that, I didn’t want Maya to base her schedule around me.

GJ’s voice and her stupid cliche popped into my head, reminding me that I shouldn’t throw in the towel.

Just because it seemed impossible to figure out now didn’t mean it wasn’t possible.

The best I could do was cross the bridge when I got there—even if it was hard for someone who was used to a structured schedule and rigid routine.

I took a deep breath.

Are you free tonight?

As soon as I sent it, three little bubbles popped up on Maya’s end. They disappeared and then reappeared a second later. A text then popped up.

What time?