Chapter 2: The Morning After the Fountain
The fluorescent lights buzzed like trapped insects, casting everything in that sickly pale glow that made even the best mornings feel like a hangover. Steam curled from the shower stalls in lazy spirals, carrying the sharp bite of chlorine and the artificial sweetness of lavender body wash. Someone's forgotten protein shake sat on the bench, a skin of chalky film forming on its surface.
Jaz sat with her back against the lockers, knees bent, head tipped back until it hit the metal with a dull thud. Her jersey clung to her skin, dark with sweat. The practice had been brutal. Worse than brutal. Embarrassing.
Five missed free throws in a row. Five. She hadn't done that since freshman year, back when she was still learning how to tune out the noise and find the rhythm. Coach had pulled her aside after the third miss, asked if she was hurt, asked if something was going on at home, asked if she needed to sit out the next game.
Jaz had told her she was fine. Just tired. Just off.
The lie had tasted like copper on her tongue.
The locker room had emptied out slowly, the rest of the team filtering toward the showers and then the parking lot, their voices fading into the early morning gray. Marcus had been the last to leave, pausing at the door with his gym bag slung over one shoulder.
"You good?" he'd asked.
Jaz had nodded without looking up.
"You sure? Because you just shot like my grandma, and she's been dead for six years."
That had earned him a laugh, weak as it was. He'd lingered a moment longer, like he wanted to say something else, then thought better of it and walked out.
Now it was just her and the hum of the lights and the drip of the leaky faucet in the corner that nobody had bothered to fix since last season.
Jaz closed her eyes. The image of Nicole walking away from the fountain was still burned into her eyelids, two days later, as vivid as if it had happened five minutes ago. The way she'd said no. Not angry. Not dismissive. Just... final. Like she'd already figured out the ending of a story Jaz hadn't even started writing.
You seem like a good person. But I'm not interested in being your experiment.
The words had been rattling around in Jaz's skull like loose change ever since. She'd replayed them in the shower, during breakfast, on the court. She'd tried to brush them off, told herself Nicole was just another girl who thought she was too good for the game. But that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all.
Nicole had seen through her. And that was the problem.
The door at the far end of the locker room creaked open.
Jaz didn't look up. Probably Marcus, coming back to grab something he'd forgotten. Or one of the assistant coaches doing a final sweep before locking up.
"I thought you'd still be here."
That voice.
Jaz's eyes snapped open. Nicole stood in the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, hair loose around her shoulders. She looked different in this light—softer, maybe. Like the sharp edges Jaz had seen on that first day had been smoothed down by something Jaz couldn't name.
"You're in the wrong locker room," Jaz said, her voice coming out rougher than she intended.
"I know." Nicole stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. The click echoed off the tiles. "I was watching practice."
Jaz sat up straighter, wiping her palms on her shorts. "You were what?"
"Watching." Nicole walked past the row of benches, past the abandoned protein shake, past the pile of towels someone had left on the floor. She stopped a few feet away from Jaz, close enough that Jaz could smell something faint and earthy—sage, maybe, or incense. "From the bleachers. You didn't see me."
Jaz hadn't seen her. She'd been too busy missing shots and trying not to lose her mind.
"Why?" The word came out sharper than Jaz meant it to. She didn't care. "You here to tell me I suck? Because I already know. Coach already told me. My teammates already told me with their eyes."
Nicole didn't flinch. She just stood there, looking down at Jaz with that same steady gaze from the fountain. The one that made Jaz feel like every wall she'd ever built was made of paper.
"I came to apologize," Nicole said.
Jaz blinked. "For what?"
"For the way I said it." Nicole sat down on the bench across from her, folding her legs beneath her. "Not for what I said. Just... the way I said it. It was harsh."
"It was honest."
"Honesty and kindness aren't mutually exclusive."
Jaz snorted. "Could have fooled me."
Nicole's mouth curved, just slightly. Not a smile. Something close. "I watched you today. You were off. Not just your shot—your whole presence. Like you were somewhere else."
"I was."
"Where?"
Jaz looked at her. Really looked. At the curve of her jaw, the warmth in her skin, the way her eyes held something that felt like patience. Or maybe understanding. Or maybe just curiosity.
"Here," Jaz said. "Two days ago. That conversation."
Nicole nodded slowly. "I figured."
"You figured." Jaz laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You figured I'd be messed up because some girl I barely know told me I was looking for a challenge instead of a person. You figured I'd be sitting in a locker room after the worst practice of my life, thinking about it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I know what it looks like when someone's carrying something heavy." Nicole leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "And I know what it looks like when they're not used to putting it down."
Jaz didn't say anything. She couldn't. Her throat had closed up around the words she wanted to say, the ones she'd been swallowing for years. The ones that lived in the spaces between all the charm and the smiles and the easy confidence.
"I meant what I said," Nicole continued. "You are looking for something. I don't think you know what it is. But I don't think you're a bad person for looking."
"I'm not used to this," Jaz said finally.
"To what?"
"To someone seeing me." She gestured vaguely at herself, at the locker room, at everything. "This is who I am to most people. The basketball player. The charmer. The one who makes everyone laugh and never takes anything seriously. That's the version of me that fits. That's the version that works."
"And the other version?"
Jaz shook her head. "There isn't one. Not anymore."
Nicole was quiet for a moment. The leaky faucet dripped. The lights hummed. Somewhere outside, a car engine turned over and faded into the distance.
"I don't believe that," Nicole said softly.
"Then you're wrong."
"Maybe." Nicole stood up, smoothing the front of her jacket. "But I don't think I am."
She started toward the door, her footsteps echoing on the tile. Jaz watched her go, that familiar ache rising in her chest. The same ache from the fountain. The same one she'd been outrunning for as long as she could remember.
"Wait," Jaz said.
Nicole stopped. Turned.
Jaz stood up, her legs unsteady, her heart pounding against her ribs like it was trying to break free. "You said you came to apologize. But you also said you meant every word. So what do you want from me?"
Nicole tilted her head, considering. "I want to see if you're brave."
"Brave?"
"Brave enough to stop performing." She took a step closer, then another. Close enough that Jaz could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, the faint scar on her chin, the way her lips parted just slightly when she spoke. "One week. No flirting. No games. No charming your way through conversations. Just you. The real you. Whatever that looks like."
Jaz swallowed. "And if I do?"
"Then I'll give you a chance." Nicole's voice was quiet but firm. "A real one."
"A chance to what?"
"To show me who you are." She reached out, her fingers brushing against Jaz's wrist—just a whisper of contact, there and gone. "Not who you think I want you to be."
Jaz looked down at her wrist, at the spot where Nicole's fingers had been. The skin tingled, like it was waking up from a long sleep.
"And if I can't?" she asked.
"You can." Nicole stepped back, toward the door. "That's the thing. You already know how. You've just been telling yourself you forgot."
She pushed the door open, letting in a sliver of gray morning light. Then she paused, looking back over her shoulder.
"The week starts now. I'll see you in class on Monday."
The door swung shut behind her.
Jaz stood there, alone in the empty locker room, her wrist still buzzing with the ghost of Nicole's touch. The lights hummed. The faucet dripped. Her sneakers sat abandoned on the floor, still damp from practice.
One week. No games. No charm.
Just her.
She didn't know if she could do it. She didn't know if she even remembered how. But for the first time in years, she wanted to try.
Jaz grabbed her bag, shoved her feet into her sneakers, and walked out into the morning. The sky was turning pink at the edges, bleeding into gold. Somewhere on campus, Nicole was walking away from her again. But this time, Jaz didn't feel like she'd lost something.
She felt like she'd been given a map.
The week stretched out in front of her, full of unknown turns and unmarked roads. And for the first time, Jaz was ready to follow it.
Tuesday morning came gray and damp, the kind of day that made the whole campus look like it had been washed in dishwater. Jaz walked into her morning seminar with her hood up and her headphones in, which wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that she didn't stop at the back row. She didn't scan the room for the prettiest face or the easiest smile. She just sat down in the middle of the room, pulled out her notebook, and waited for class to start.
Nobody said anything. But she felt eyes on her. Marcus, two rows back, was staring like she'd grown a second head.
After class, he caught up to her in the hallway, his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Okay, what's going on with you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't flirt with the TA. You always flirt with the TA."
Jaz shrugged. "Maybe I'm not in the mood."
Marcus squinted at her. "You're never not in the mood. That's like your whole thing."
"I'm retiring."
"From what? Being you?"
Jaz laughed, and it felt real. Lighter than usual. "Something like that."
Wednesday was stranger. She had lunch with two girls from the team, and instead of steering the conversation toward inside jokes and campus gossip, she asked them questions. Real ones. What did Dana want to do after graduation? Did Priya actually like being a bio major, or was she just good at it?
Dana blinked at her over her burrito bowl. "Are you dying?"
"What? No."
"You're being weird. Like, nice weird. But weird."
Jaz just shrugged and took another bite of her sandwich.
Thursday, she turned down an invitation to a party at the Delta house. Two years ago—hell, two weeks ago—she would have been the first one through the door, ready to charm her way through every conversation. Instead, she stayed in her dorm room, reading the chapter Nicole had mentioned in class. The Tao Te Ching. The one about letting go.
She didn't understand half of it. But she kept reading anyway.
Friday morning, she found a note tucked under her dorm door. No name. Just a single line in neat handwriting.
You're doing good.
Jaz stared at it for a full minute, then folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of her jacket.
By Saturday, the whole team had noticed. Coach pulled her aside after practice, her face creased with concern.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"No, Coach."
"Personal stuff?"
"No."
Coach studied her for a long moment. "You're different. Calmer. Your passes are sharper. You're seeing the court better."
"I'm just trying to be present."
Coach nodded slowly, like that was answer enough. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
Saturday night, there was a party at the off-campus house Marcus's cousin rented. It wasn't the kind of thing Jaz usually skipped. She almost didn't go. But Marcus had been giving her side-eye all week, and she figured one night wouldn't kill her.
The house was packed when she walked in. Bass thumped through the walls, rattling the cheap framed posters. The air smelled like sweat and cheap beer and something sweet from the fog machine someone had set up in the corner. Jaz grabbed a drink, found Marcus, and settled into a corner where she could watch the room without being in the middle of it.
For a while, it was fine. She talked to Marcus about the upcoming season. She talked to Dana about her psychology midterm. She even talked to a guy from her econ class about whether the cafeteria sushi was worth the risk.
Then the women started coming.
The first one was a freshman with blonde hair and a smile that was already a little too wide from whatever she'd been drinking. She sidled up to Jaz, leaning close enough that her perfume made Jaz's nose itch.
"Hey," she said. "You're on the basketball team, right? I've seen you play."
Jaz nodded. "That's me."
"I'm Kayla." She put her hand on Jaz's arm. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"I'm good, thanks."
Kayla didn't move. "You sure? You look like you could loosen up."
"I'm pretty loose already." Jaz took a small step back, polite and easy. "But thanks."
Kayla hovered for a beat longer, then drifted off. Jaz exhaled.
The second one came twenty minutes later. A girl named Tasha who she'd hooked up with last semester. Tasha smiled like they shared a secret and leaned against the wall next to her.
"Haven't seen you around," Tasha said.
"Been busy."
"Too busy for me?"
Jaz looked at her. Really looked. Tasha was pretty and funny and didn't want anything serious. A month ago, that would have been enough. Tonight, it felt like a shirt that didn't fit anymore.
"I think so," Jaz said. "Yeah."
Tasha's smile flickered. "Okay. Your loss."
She walked away, and Jaz felt a small pang of something—guilt, maybe, or just the ghost of old habits. But she didn't chase after her. She didn't want to.
By ten o'clock, Jaz had turned down three more advances. She'd been polite every time. She'd smiled. She'd kept her hands to herself and her words clean. But her energy was flagging, and she was thinking about leaving when the front door opened and cool night air swept through the room.
Nicole walked in.
She was wearing a dark green sweater that hung off one shoulder and jeans that fit like they'd been made for her. Her hair was down, loose and thick and catching the low light. She looked around the room once, calm as still water, and then her eyes landed on Jaz.
Everything else faded.
The music, the crowd, the girls who had been circling—all of it went quiet in Jaz's head. There was only Nicole, standing in the doorway, looking at her like she'd been looking for her all night.
Jaz pushed off the wall. Marcus said something as she passed, but she didn't hear it. She just walked. Straight through the crowd, straight toward the door, until she was standing in front of Nicole with her heart in her throat.
"You came," Jaz said.
"You asked me to."
"I didn't actually ask."
Nicole smiled. Small. Real. "You didn't have to."
Jaz felt something loosen in her chest, like a knot she'd been carrying for years had finally started to give. "I've been trying," she said. "All week. To be... I don't know. Myself."
"I know." Nicole's eyes were warm. "I've been watching."
"Watching?"
"From the sidelines." She tilted her head. "You didn't flirt with the TA. You asked Dana about her dreams. You read the book."
Jaz blinked. "How do you know all that?"
"I have my sources." Nicole's smile widened, just a little. "And I'm observant."
Jaz shook her head, a low laugh escaping her. "You're something else."
"So I've been told."
They stood there for a moment, the party swirling around them, the bass thudding, the lights low and hazy. Jaz didn't feel the need to fill the silence. She didn't feel the need to perform. She just felt... present. Like she was finally standing in her own body.
"You look really beautiful tonight," Jaz said.
The words came out before she could stop them. But they weren't a line. They weren't a play. They were just true.
Nicole's cheeks darkened. Just slightly. Just enough. "Thank you."
Jaz took a small step closer, close enough to smell the sage and something sweet on her skin. "So what happens now?"
Nicole looked up at her. "What do you want to happen?"
"I want to dance with you."
The words hung between them, simple and honest. No swagger. No game. Just Jaz, standing in the middle of a crowded room, asking for something she actually wanted.
Nicole held her gaze for a long moment. Then she reached out and took Jaz's hand.
"Okay," she said. "Let's dance."