Waking up felt like dragging my brain through a rug and getting carpet burn. My head throbbed, my mouth was dry, and my chest was heavy. Heavy like I'd just done something incredibly stupid, which—let's face it—I probably had. The kiss. God, the kiss. My stomach did this weird flip when the memory hit me.

Last night had been a mess. KK's DJ Khalid persona, Paige running her mouth, Nika sitting on my lap like it was normal. And then, of course, the kiss that I initiated like some kind of idiot who thinks mixing alcohol with repressed feelings is a genius move. I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow.

The rational part of my brain screamed that it wasn't that deep, but the emotional side—the one I personally liked to pretend didn't exist—was panicking like I'd just handed my diary to Coach Geno and he read how much I hated running suicides. The what-ifs were eating me alive. What if Nika regretted it? What if she didn't even remember? Worse, what if she did remember but acted like it never happened? Yeah she would do that.

I sighed and rolled onto my side, planning to bury my face in the covers and avoid life for the next 24 hours, when I froze. Nika was there, tangled in the sheets next to me, her dark hair a mess and her hand clutching the front of my hoodie like she was doing last night.

For a second, I couldn't breathe.

She looked...peaceful. Like the fiery version of Nika no one else got to see. Her features softened, lips slightly parted, the stubborn edge to her brows smoothed out. Beautiful didn't even cover it honestly. I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to reach out, maybe brush that rogue strand of hair off her cheek, but I didn't. That would've crossed some line I wasn't sure we'd even drawn yet.

Instead, I sat up carefully, praying the bed wouldn't creak loud enough to wake her up. Watching her sleep was bad enough—I didn't need her catching me doing it like some creep. The last thing I needed was her laughing at me, turning this into some running joke about how whipped I was.

The air in the room felt too heavy, like it was pressing on my chest. I needed to clear my head. A cold shower. Yeah, that'd do the trick.

By the time I was rinsing off, the panic had dulled into something more manageable. I convinced myself last night didn't mean anything. It couldn't. With the season kicking off tomorrow, we had no room for drama. Nika was laser-focused on basketball, and I needed to be too. That kiss? A fluke. A drunk mistake. Nothing more.

I pulled on my UConn hoodie and some old basketball shorts, mentally prepping myself to wake her up so we could head to practice. But when I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my hair, I stopped dead in my tracks.

There she was, sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing the hoodie I'd just left behind. My hoodie. It hung loosely on her, the sleeves too long, and the way her hair framed her face made my heart do this stupid little skip.

"Morning," she said casually, like it was completely normal for her to sit there in my clothes, looking like a goddamn model.

I blinked, forcing myself to say something that wasn't, You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. "Uh...morning." Smooth, Drew. Real smooth.

She didn't mention the kiss. Of course, she didn't. She acted like nothing had happened, and for a second, I was relieved. The pressure in my chest eased up. But then frustration crept in because, like of course, she wouldn't bring it up. Why would she? It was just a stupid, drunken moment to her. It should mean the same to me too.

"Ready for practice?" she asked, hopping off the bed and heading for her bag like it was just another day.

"Yup," I muttered, grabbing my own stuff and trying not to look at her too much. It was easier that way, to avoid the impending conversation.

The drive to the gym was uneventful. Paige and Azzi kept throwing me knowing looks, but I ignored them. No way was I giving them the satisfaction of knowing they were right about Nika and me. Whatever they thought they saw last night wasn't real. Well it was but not relevant.

By the time we hit the court, I was all business. Basketball was my safe space, the one thing I could always count on to drown out the noise. Except today, it wasn't working. Every missed shot, every fumbled pass brought me back to last night. Her smile, her laugh, her lips.

"Drew!" Coach Geno barked. "Focus! Footwork's sloppy."

"Got it, Coach," I said, gritting my teeth and forcing myself to concentrate. But even then, my mind wandered back to her. To us.

After practice, everyone hit the showers, but I stayed behind. Routine. I needed the extra drills, not just for the pointers Coach gave me, but because I wasn't about to step onto the court tomorrow and look like a clown.

But no matter how many times I tried to sink a three, I kept missing. My focus was shot, and I hated it. "Get it together man," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Talking to yourself now?"

Her voice startled me. I turned to see Nika standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable as per usual.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Trying to act like she didn't just scare the fuck out of me.

"Watching you miss your shots," she said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the hoop. "Go home, Nika."

She didn't move. Instead, she picked up a stray ball and tossed it, hitting me square in the back.

"Uh ow?" I glared at her, but she just shrugged, that infuriating smile still on her face.

"What's your problem?" she asked, stepping onto the court. You, Nika.

"I don't have a problem," I snapped, shooting again and missing.

"You've been weird all day." No shot Captain Obvious.

"Maybe because I'm trying to focus on basketball, and I can't because someone decided to kiss me last night!" The words spilled out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it.

Nika froze, her confidence faltering for the first time. "You kissed me."

"Yeah, well, you kissed me back," I shot back, running a hand through my hair. "And now I can't stop thinking about it. It's annoying. I've kissed plenty of girls before, and it's never been an issu—"

"Drew."

"What?"

She hesitated, then pointed at my stance. "You're dropping your elbow. That's why you keep missing."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," she said, stepping closer and nudging my arm into position. "Go now."

I did, and the ball sank cleanly through the hoop. Of course she was right.

"Thanks," I muttered, turning to face her.

Before I could say anything else, she stepped forward and kissed me, shutting me up completely. This kiss wasn't like the first. It was urgent, messy, like she was trying to say everything she couldn't put into words. My hands didn't waste anytime finding her hips, clinging onto the waistband of her shorts.

When she pulled back, her face was flushed, but her smirk was back. "Now can you focus on basketball?"

I stared at her, my lips still tingling. "Yeah sure, just uh a couple more of those, and—oh, would you look at that? Time to go home. What a bummer."

She laughed, and I couldn't help but lean down for another kiss before pulling back.

My shoulders slumped as I ran a hand through my damp hair, trying to pull myself together. "Listen," I started, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be. "I'm sorry about last night. I just... I don't wanna mess anything up—for either of us. I know how much this means to you, the team and me. I can't be out here making a mess of myself on the court, you know? Basketball comes first."

Nika tilted her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Apologizing for kissing me? That's a first." She crossed her arms, leaning her weight on one leg like she wasn't just as affected as I was. "I get it, I really do. I don't want this to get in the way either. But just so we're clear, I'm not freaking out over this. You don't need to either."

"Good," I said, nodding. "Good."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my awkward attempt to end the conversation. "That being said..." Nika paused, her smirk shifting into something more mischievous. "I'm still the better point guard."

My eyes narrowed, and I crossed my arms. "Oh, hell no. You're not gonna start this right now."

"I mean, starts don't lie," Nika teased, taking a step back and bouncing the ball she had tossed at me earlier. "Prove me wrong, hotshot."

"Oh, you wanna play?" I asked, cracking my neck as I moved to the top of the key. "Alright. You asked for it."

Her grin widened, and she dribbled the ball like she was already thinking two steps ahead of me. "First to seven?"

"Fine. But no crying when you lose," I said, lowering my stance.

"You mean no crying when you lose," she shot back, effortlessly switching the ball between her hands.

And just like that, we were locked in. The trash talk started immediately—both of us throwing jabs about turnovers, missed shots, and who carried the team more. Nika's first move was a quick crossover that had me backpedaling, her speed catching me off guard. She scored the first bucket, grinning as she flicked the ball toward me.

"Too easy! Slipping already, Drew? That's not a good look," she teased, her tone dripping with fake sympathy.

I rolled my eyes, gripping the ball tightly. "Oh, so you're funny now. Let's see how long that lasts."

I drove hard to the basket, brushing past her, and she made sure to get in a light shove against my hip as I went up for the layup. The ball sank through the net, and I turned to face her, a cocky grin on my face. "One-one. Keep up sweetheart."

We went back and forth, the game getting more physical with every point. Neither of us could resist a little unnecessary contact—a hand lingering too long on a block, a hip check that was more teasing than competitive. Nika's laughter echoed through the empty gym every time she got the upper hand, but I was quick to fire back with a bucket of my own.

At one point, she backed me down toward the basket, her shoulder pressing into me. "You're looking a little tired, Drew. Need a break?"

"From being around you? Never," I said, gritting my teeth as I tried to hold my ground.

She spun around me, her body brushing against mine before she went up for the shot. The ball swished through the net, and she landed lightly, her arms raised in triumph.

"Five-three," she said, her smirk widening. "I'm almost there."

I wiped the sweat off my brow, shaking my head. "You're so full of it."

The game ended faster than I wanted it to. Nika sealed the win with a smooth jumper, the ball snapping the net as it fell through. She immediately turned to me, grinning like she'd just won a championship. It was a little cute.

"That's game," she said, sauntering over to me with her arms wide open. "Who's the better point guard now?"

I groaned, tossing the ball toward the wall. "Alright, fine. You got me. Congrats on your little win."

"Little win?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow as she stepped closer. "You sound like a sore loser Sinclair."

"I am not a sore loser," I muttered, refusing to look at her.

Her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a loose hug that completely caught me off guard. My arms wrapping around the back of her neck since she was significantly shorter than me. She rested her chin on my shoulder, her voice soft but teasing. "You're cute when you pout, you know that?"

I froze for a second before relaxing into her hold, the warmth of her body distracting me from my bruised ego. "You're cute when you're not bullying me."

Nika laughed, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. "Listen, Drew. No pressure, okay? We don't have to figure this out right now—or ever. If you're worried about basketball, then that's where we'll keep the focus. But if you liked kissing me..." Her smile turned playful, her fingers lightly tugging at the hem of my hoodie. "Maybe we don't overthink it. A sleepover every here and there. No one has to know."

I stared at her, trying to process what she'd just said. It was so casual, so... her.

"You're serious?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Dead serious," she said, her tone light but her gaze steady. "We keep basketball first, but maybe we don't completely ignore the fact that we're kinda good at this too."

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. "You're hard to understand, you know that?"

"But you're still around so you like it," she said, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. "But I'm not letting you win next time."

Nika grinned, stepping back and grabbing the ball. "I'll believe it when I see it."

As we walked off the court together, my arm slung around her shoulders, I couldn't help but feel lighter. Whatever this was, it didn't feel like pressure—it just felt... easy. And for now, that was enough.

...