(State U Gym B — Tuesday Night)
The gym was supposed to close at nine.
It was almost ten, and the only sound left was sneakers squeaking against tired wood.
The Titans were still running half-hearted drills.
Coach Yssa leaned against the wall, sipping coffee that had clearly lived too long.
"Alright, last rotation!" she called. "Then go study or pretend to!"
Mika Yamaguchi Alvarado stood by the scorer's table, tallying practice stats that didn't matter.
The clipboard felt heavier than it used to — probably because Tom Ramos's jacket was still folded inside her bag.
She hadn't returned it.
She'd told herself she just kept forgetting.
She'd also told herself she didn't keep checking the door when he was late.
Scene 1 — Routine
The whistle blew.
The team circled up.
Tom was the last to join, hair damp from the drizzle outside.
"Ramos," Coach said. "Nice of you to exist."
"Traffic," he replied.
"Traffic doesn't excuse missed rebounds."
"Neither does gravity," he muttered.
Laughter rippled. Coach sighed. "Run two laps for philosophy."
As he jogged past Mika, she looked down at her clipboard.
He slowed anyway. "You still mad about something?"
"Should I be?"
He gave a crooked grin. "Then no."
It wasn't flirting. Not anymore. It was armor.
And for some reason, it made her want to throw her clipboard.
Scene 2 — After the Whistle
The team left in clusters.
Coach Yssa handed Mika the keys. "Lock up, Manager. Don't overthink. Floors dry faster than feelings."
Then she disappeared into the rain.
Only Tom stayed behind, pretending to shoot free throws.
The lights hummed; one flickered near the backboard.
Mika wiped the board clean, the marker smudging.
"You can go," she said.
"Coach said help clean."
"She says that to whoever's slowest."
"Guess that's me."
The rhythm between them had gone wrong — too careful, too polite.
She hated polite.
Scene 3 — The Slip
Tom tossed another ball, missed on purpose.
"Hey," he said softly. "Did you get my note?"
She froze. "What note?"
"The one in the jacket you're pretending not to have."
Her face heated. "You shouldn't write things like that."
"Why? Because you'll read them?"
"Because I'll take them seriously."
It came out sharper than she meant.
He looked at her, eyes quiet for once.
"Then maybe that's the point."
The words hit too fast, too real.
She dropped her marker, heart thudding.
"Stop being nice if you don't mean it."
"I always mean it."
"Then why does it feel like you don't?"
Silence.
The lights buzzed.
He set the ball down carefully, like anything louder might break the room.
"Maybe because you never let it."
Then he walked out into the rain.
Scene 4 — Lock-Up
The echo of the door closing hung longer than it should've.
Mika finished cleaning on autopilot.
Her hands shook every time she heard thunder.
She turned off the lights one by one, the gym falling into shadow.
When she finally stepped outside, the rain hit her full in the face.
Tom was there.
Leaning against the railing, drenched, hands in his pockets.
He didn't look at her — just said, "Didn't want you walking alone."
She stared, umbrella half-open.
"You're soaked."
"So are you."
"This is stupid."
"Yeah."
Neither moved.
The sound of rain filled the space where everything else could've fit.
It was the kind of silence that couldn't go back to normal.
Scene 5 — The Walk Home
They walked side by side down the narrow path behind the gym.
Water pooled around their shoes; neon from a vending machine painted them blue.
Tom broke the quiet first.
"You still owe me a rain check."
"You still owe me dry clothes."
"Trade?"
"Trade."
He laughed once — the first real laugh all night — and that was enough.
Not forgiveness.
Just a pause between storms.
Scene 6 — Later
In her dorm, Mika opened her notes app.
The cursor blinked for a long time before she typed:
Manager Rule #6:
Sometimes the game doesn't end when the buzzer sounds.
Sometimes it just gets quiet enough to hear what you've been avoiding.
Outside, the rain finally eased to a drizzle.
She left the jacket hanging on the chair — dry now, but still his.
End of Episode 6 — "After Practice."