I shoved my phone back in my pocket, guilt eating away at my nerves.

"That's gentrification not gerrymandering Jenna, he literally explained that to us yesterday."

"It was a mistake, the words sound similar, you don't have to lose your shit," Jenna responded, looking ready to jump across the table and wring Eva's neck. The others were looking on in enthusiasm and I thought it'd be best to intrude before it got too far.

"It's alright- mistakes are mistakes, let's just move past it." Eva rolled her eyes and smirked, and I wondered what was going on between the two when I wasn't there. They'd been fighting more and more, and I really, really didn't know how to deal with conflict.

I wished Lucy was there. Lucy would've already had this group aced and ready to transfer. There would've been no snide comments or dirty looks. She wouldn't have had time for that.

"So uh," I flipped through the notes we'd gone through my eyes trained on the paper. "Right, gerrymandering is when district lines are manipulated to help a specific political party, gentrification happens when wealthy people and corporations buy property in poor communities and renovate them, which raises the cost of living and usually drives out the original residents..." I flipped through the pages some more, "a good example to research is Chelsea, New York. But I don't think gentrification is covered at all in your class, it's usually a sociology topic... so focus on gerrymandering for now."

I glanced at the clock, we'd already stayed a few minutes past the library closing.

"Yeah, I mean I know what gentrification is," Jenna said defensively, and I picked at my nail under the table, "I just got the words mixed up." Her cheeks were tinted a bit and I wondered if I'd only made her feel more uncomfortable.

"For sure, that happens." I offered her a smile, which she happily returned. I was not cut out to be a tutor. "We should get going though, before they kick us out."

***

"How the fuck did you tutor people in high school?" I said to the receiver, and heard a small laugh on the other end.

"Why, are you having trouble?" Lucy giggled, and I heard a few girls in the background singing along to Britney Spears.

"There's a few girls who are constantly bickering with each other for no apparent reason." I unlocked my car, tossing my bag in the passenger seat. "This girl Eva doesn't even need tutoring. She never has any questions. All she does is shit on everyone else."

I slumped in the driver's seat, closing my eyes and listening to her roommates try and vocalize the beat to Work Bitch.

"Why are you laughing? Does my distress bring you joy?"

Lucy only laughed some more.

"Evan, you're sooo slow sometimes." I frowned, opening my eyes and glaring at the empty parking lot.

"How?"

"This girl Eva doesn't need tutoring yet shows up and fights with any other girl who asks you questions? Sounds like she likes you."

"Wh-"

"I'm guessing the other girl likes you too but I'd need to know more. You're not great at picking up signals. Do you know how many girls in high school flirted with you and you'd never notice? I think Maddy has a tally somewhere..."

I leaned back against the headrest and groaned.

"If only I'd had some friends back then that would've enlightened me about such things."

"We didn't think those girls were your type, sorry."

I blinked at my steering wheel. What does that mean?

My phone buzzed just in time.

"Luce, Eriks calling me I'll talk to you later?"

"No problem- but if you miss our next video call Alex and Maddy have both agreed we're all flying over there and shaving your head so don't miss it!"

"I'm sorry- I promise I'll make it next time."

"Ok you better- love ya, bye!"

I answered Eriks call and started the car.

"Evan! You gotta get over here now the game is crazy close!" His voice was hard to make out through all the noise on his end, and I heard a loud buzzer sound off.

"Where are you?" I asked, pulling the phone from my ear slightly.

"What?!"

"Where are you?!"

"Rowan's game- coach canceled practice so we could go- come quick the second half's about to start!"

"Wait, isn't it too late-?"

"Get here!"

The line went dead and I was back to the echoing silence in the parking lot.

***

It took a while to find parking, and for some reason I felt a weight leave my shoulders as I walked to the gym. There, I'd just be a bystander, no expectations or attention on me. The outside was clear of people, and the booming noise from inside the arena made me wonder what I'd missed out on.

I was severely underdressed in my plain white t-shirt and jeans, my bag loosely hanging off my shoulder. Like last time, the fans were sporting blue everywhere.

It felt odd, entering the gym in the middle of a game. It's like turning on a movie you've never seen before at its peak; it's exciting but at the same time you don't know what the hell is going on.

Everyone's attention was on the court, even the employees at the concessions stand had their eyes glued to the game. The announcer was talking fast, the fans were booing and yelling.

It's easier to catch up with a basketball game than a movie though. All I had to do was turn my attention to the scoreboard.

Creighton was up by five points, and there were only forty-five seconds left in the game. The clock was stopped and two players in white jerseys were arguing with the refs, their arms moving expressively as sweat dripped down their bodies.

It was strange watching the game from the ground level. When I was up in the stands, the players looked a bit smaller- average sized. From this level I could see how much bigger than me they all were, most of them were around six feet or taller, their shoulders broad and muscled. In any other setting, these guys would stand out from the general public- I'm sure they dealt with that on a daily basis, but they seemed to belong on the court.

I felt small looking at them.

Rowan wasn't hard to spot. He was pulling the jersey of one of his teammates, one of the players who'd been arguing with the referees. He was pointing to the clock, talking to the boy with a frustrated expression, his brows knit together closely.

"And a technical foul will go to Creighton guard Adams," the announcer's voice echoed through the building and angry boos filled the stadium. The player Rowan was talking to shook his head angrily and as he turned I saw the name ADAMS printed on the back of his jersey.

He walked back to the bench as the other team sent a player to take their free-throw. My eyes followed him, and I watched as Coach Anderson sent him an icy glare before tapping the shoulder of someone on the bench who hopped up and took his place on the court.

The coach waved Rowan over from the sidelines, and Rowan walked up to him with an indifferent expression, his hands grasping his own jersey as he watched the opposing player set up for his free-throw.

The cheerful, excited coach I'd read about in the paper was nowhere to be seen. His face was set in anger as he spoke, but Rowan didn't seem to care in the slightest. He gave a short nod, his attention never once leaving the court as the opposing player made his free-throw, cutting Creightons lead to four points.

I wanted to look for Erik in the stands, but I knew by the time I found him the game would be over. I stayed by the concessions, entranced by the game like everyone else.

The shot clock reset to twenty seconds, while the main clock started ticking down from forty-five as the game resumed. Rowan was guarding the post player closely, and it looked like the player was saying something to him. Rowan remained unfazed, and even as his opponent tried shoving him out of the way he kept his path to the basket blocked.

One of Rowan's teammates stole the ball and immediately passed it to him. The clock was at just over twenty seconds, and Rowan only dribbled, waiting on the three-point line as the seconds went by. The crowd grew louder as the time diminished and victory came closer and closer. He ran down the clock until it reached five seconds and he sent a sharp pass to the post player who easily laid it in the basket, expanding their lead to six points.

At less than five seconds, the other team inbounded the ball and waited for the buzzer to sound, knowing they'd run out of time for any chance at a comeback.

But even after the buzzer sounded and the game had ended, the player Rowan had defended earlier was still talking to him. He looked like he was trying to argue, and even gave him a nudge that Rowan easily shrugged off as he continued to ignore him, a cold expression set on his face.

The crowd cheered as the players left the court, but even though they'd just won the Creighton players looked bothered on their way to the locker rooms.

I backed against the wall as the crowd started filing out and pulled out my phone to call Erik.

"Where are you?" He asked after picking up on the first ring.

"I'm by the entrance, I can come to where you are, let's wait for the crowd to thin."

"We're up a bit high, section B, row- uh I have no idea just look up at B and you'll see us."

I scanned the stands, finally spotting Erik waving wildly, a few of his teammates chatting next to him.

"You might have to wait a few minutes, there's a shitload of people coming down." He motioned over to the cheery crowd below him. "You know what, just meet me at the bottom in five."

"Sounds good," I said before hanging up.

The crowd slowly thinned, and after a few minutes I was able to start walking towards the stands. There was a scattered applause through the building followed by some cheers and whistles, and I noticed Rowan's team exiting their locker rooms. They all wore the same solemn expressions they had on before, and I noticed Rowan towards the back of the line, chatting with the assistant coach.

He was wearing black sweats and a blue Creighton t-shirt, similar to the one I'd worn when he'd stayed the night. His hair was wet, brushed back, and his jaw was set as he walked, a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

His eyes scanned his surroundings in boredom until they caught mine. I felt my breath catch in my throat, I wondered if I'd been gawking before and I sent him a quick smile, one which he returned with a hint of surprise.

I started to head towards the stands where Erik was probably waiting, before running into something solid. I felt the wind knock out of me and stumbled back a few steps, before realizing what- or should I say who I'd just run into.

"S-sorry," I forced out, meeting the angry eyes of the player who'd been picking on Rowan. The rest of his team was towering behind him, some chatting amongst themselves, others giving wary glances at their teammate.

"Watch it." He said, glaring at me before shoving past my shoulder causing me to take another step back. I felt my face redden in humiliation as I shrunk farther.

"S'cuse you," Rowan was walking towards him, danger in his eyes. "No need to be rude to our fans 'cause you can't take a loss." The team wasn't far behind him, and I watched in fear as Coach Anderson tried calling them back.

"Oh?" The player smiled, like he was eager for a confrontation. "Didn't know you could talk." He took a step closer to Rowan, and I saw Rowan's fist tighten around the strap of his gym bag.

The remaining crowd had quieted as they refocused their attention back to the floor. They were close, and one of the opposing team members tried pulling his teammate back but the boy just shrugged him off.

"Maybe you should've been more focused on playing," Rowan motioned over to the scoreboard that hadn't been cleared yet, "talking doesn't seem to work well for you."

The boy leapt forward, shoving Rowan back, but Rowan countered with a swift right hook, landing hard on his cheekbone. Fans were yelling, some cheering, while teammates were pulling their players apart and the coaches quickly intervened.

It happened so fast and suddenly the opposing team was by the door, their coaches yelling at the boy and ushering him out, the rest of the team sending Creighton dirty looks.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Coach Anderson was seething, all of his anger directed towards Rowan as the crowd booed the other team out of the stadium, some craning their necks to see what was going on. "Are you trying to get suspended?"

Rowan grabbed his bag from the floor, throwing the strap over his shoulder as if he didn't hear a thing his coach had said.

Anderson reached forward and grabbed Rowan's arm. "Are you listening to me?" He was whispering now, his fingers white with the force they were gripping him.

Rowan turned, looking even more deadly than he'd been moments prior. His hand wrapped around the one on his arm and easily tore it away from him.

His next words were so, so quiet, but were doused with malice, clear to the few that could hear them.

"Don't you ever touch me again."

***

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