6

The first crack didn’t come from them, and Ethan almost missed it because he wasn’t paying attention to anything outside of himself.

Practice had already started, the usual sounds of sneakers squeaking and balls hitting the floor filling the gym, when Jason called his name from the side. It wasn’t loud, just enough to get his attention without drawing anyone else’s.

“Hey, Ethan.”

Ethan jogged over, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. “What?”

Jason leaned against the bleachers, arms crossed loosely, his expression more serious than usual. “Coach wants you to tone it down.”

Ethan frowned immediately. “Tone what down?”

Jason gave him a look, not annoyed, just… tired. “You know exactly what.”

Ethan let out a short breath, glancing away for a second. “Since when do you care?”

“Since it’s affecting everyone,” Jason replied, pushing himself off the bleachers. “You think people don’t notice? It’s getting old.”

That made Ethan pause, even if he didn’t want it to.

His eyes shifted across the court almost on their own, landing on Marcus. He was standing with two other players, talking about something Ethan couldn’t hear. For a moment, Marcus smiled—small, quick, but real enough to catch.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

It did.

Ethan looked back at Jason, his voice a little sharper now. “I’m fine.”

Jason tilted his head slightly, like he didn’t believe him but wasn’t going to push too hard. “Yeah,” he said, “but he’s not.”

Ethan’s brows pulled together. “He looks fine to me.”

Jason shook his head once. “That’s because you’re only looking at what’s in front of you.”

Ethan didn’t like that answer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Jason said, lowering his voice just a bit, “not everything shows up the way you expect it to.”

For a second, Ethan thought about pressing further, but the words didn’t come. He didn’t even know what he would ask. Jason had already stepped away anyway, clapping him once on the shoulder like the conversation was over.

Ethan stood there for a moment longer than necessary before turning back toward the court, but something about that exchange stayed with him. He didn’t understand it, and that was exactly why it bothered him.

The rest of practice didn’t feel the same after that.

It wasn’t obvious. Nothing dramatic changed, and if anyone had asked, Ethan would have said everything was normal. But he caught himself noticing things he hadn’t before. The way Marcus moved through drills without hesitation, the way he spoke to teammates without raising his voice, the way he seemed steady even when things got frustrating.

It didn’t match what Ethan had built in his head.

And that made him uneasy.

By the time Coach paired them up again, Ethan was already more aware than he wanted to be.

“Same drill,” Coach said, barely sparing them a glance. “And do it properly this time.”

Ethan picked up the ball, stepping into position. Marcus walked over and stopped in front of him, close enough for the drill, but not close enough to feel like earlier.

For a second, neither of them said anything.

Then Marcus nodded once. “Pass.”

Ethan did, the ball snapping cleanly into Marcus’s hands. They started moving immediately, falling into a rhythm that had become familiar over the past few days. Step, pass, pivot, repeat. It was efficient, almost automatic, and if someone had been watching from the outside, they would have said they worked well together.

That didn’t mean it felt right.

Ethan missed a step a few rounds in. It wasn’t big, just a slight delay in his timing, but Marcus caught it instantly.

“Again.”

Ethan exhaled, straightening. “We’ve done it enough.”

Marcus didn’t raise his voice. “Not if you’re still off.”

There was no insult in it, no edge, just a statement. Somehow, that made it worse.

Ethan looked at him properly now. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Marcus met his gaze, calm as ever. “Neither do you.”

That should have ended the conversation. It usually would have. But something in Ethan held on this time, something that didn’t want to let it go.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked.

The question came out quieter than expected, and for the first time, Marcus didn’t answer immediately. He blinked once, like he needed a second to process it, before replying.

“Because this matters.”

Ethan frowned slightly. “It matters to me too.”

“Then act like it.”

“I am acting like it.”

Marcus’s expression shifted, just a fraction. “No,” he said, and there was something sharper in his tone now, something that reached past the surface of the argument. “You act like you have to do everything alone. Like passing is some kind of weakness.”

Ethan felt that land, even if he didn’t show it right away. “That’s not what this is.”

“It is,” Marcus said, stepping closer without hesitation. “You don’t trust anyone on the court, and then you get frustrated when things fall apart.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Marcus didn’t move back. “I know enough to see what you’re doing.”

There was no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty. Just that same steady confidence that had annoyed Ethan from the beginning. But now it felt different. Less like arrogance, more like observation.

And that made it harder to brush off.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Ethan said, his voice lower now.

Marcus held his gaze. “Then prove me wrong.”

The words sat there between them, heavier than anything else that had been said.

Ethan opened his mouth, ready to respond, but nothing came out. He didn’t have a quick comeback, didn’t have something sharp to throw back. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

And that frustrated him more than anything.

The tension stretched, not explosive like before, but tight enough to feel. They were standing closer again without meaning to, the space between them smaller than it should have been. Ethan could hear Marcus’s breathing, steady but not completely even, and it made him aware of his own in a way he didn’t like.

For a second, it felt like something else might happen.

Not a fight.

Something else entirely.

But neither of them moved.

Ethan looked away first, dragging a hand through his hair as he stepped back. “We’re done for today.”

He expected an argument. A correction. Something.

Marcus didn’t give him anything.

“Okay,” he said simply.

That threw Ethan off more than if he’d pushed back.

Ethan grabbed his bag without another word and headed for the locker room, his thoughts louder than the noise of the gym behind him. He could still feel Marcus’s eyes on him even without turning around, and that only made it harder to ignore everything that had just happened.

Because the anger was still there.

That hadn’t changed.

The irritation, the competition, the constant need to prove something—it was all still sitting right where it had been from the start.

But now there was something else mixed in with it.

Something quieter, harder to pin down, something that didn’t fit into the same space as the rest.

And Ethan didn’t know what to do with that.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to figure it out.