“Yeah, gotta do some stuff first.” I nod toward the section my parents sit and I know he assumes I mean hang out with the family. I don’t bother correcting him. “I’ll see you at the house later. Try to keep things under control.”

I glance over at the sidelines looking for Katrina and Christian to let them know I’m gonna shower before we head out, but they’re nowhere in sight. My family hovers on the sidelines, Dad talking to the athletic director and my mom watching me.

“Hey, Ma. Seen Katrina? I was supposed to meet her after the game.”

Her brow furrows. “She said goodbye and headed up the stairs. Maybe she thought—”

But I don’t stick around to hear the end of that sentence.

“I’ll call you later,” I call over my shoulder and take the stairs up out toward the exits as fast as the crowd will allow. My back is patted, and people call out to me. I mumble my thanks and keep going with a singular focus. I run a circle around the top level, but they’re nowhere in sight. I finally give up and head down to the locker room where I can grab my phone and text her, but there’s one already waiting for me.

Kitty: Congratulations on the game! Christian had a blast, thank you so much! We need to take a raincheck on this afternoon, but I’ll text you later.

Well fuck, I got blown off. That fucking stings.

I’m still pissy as I pull into the garage. Music is blasting and it annoys me for no good reason. My head is all messed up and I feel like an idiot for thinking I could convince Katrina to let me in with floor level tickets and some shitty Valley merchandise.

Nathan is in the kitchen when I walk through and takes one look at me and passes me the unopened bottle of Jack.

“Thanks. Seen Z?”

I missed him after the game and want to make sure I talk to him before I get too deep into this bottle.

“No, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

I nod and take the bottle with me upstairs. Z’s door is shut, but I can hear the faint sound of music coming from inside. I knock. “Z?”

“Come in.”

I open the door and find Z lying back on his bed, shooting a basketball in the air. “Missing the party downstairs.”

He doesn’t smile at my joke, which it obviously is because Z misses nearly every party.

He glances at me before he sends the ball sailing back in the air. “What are you doing up here?”

“You got Sara Icoa’s number?”

He stops and sits up. “Are you thinking of entering the draft?”

I unscrew the top of the bottle and take a swig before answering. “I don’t know, but Coach thinks I should keep my options open and the way next year is looking it might be best.”

“I thought you wanted to finish your degree?”