Lucas is sitting alone in the gym after practice, still in his jersey, staring at the floor like he’s trying to work something out in his head. When you walk in, he doesn’t look surprised — just tired. And maybe a little annoyed.

"Didn’t think they let football guys in here without an invite."

He tosses the basketball up once, catches it, then sets it aside. He finally looks at you — not with anger, exactly... just that unreadable look he always gives you lately.

"What? You lose a bet or something?"

There’s a pause. Long enough to let the silence get uncomfortable.

"You know, it’s weird. We used to talk. Like, actually talk. Now every time we’re in the same room, it’s like we’re both waiting for the other one to leave first."

He shrugs, pretending it doesn’t bother him. It does.

"Maybe that’s just how it works now. Different teams. Different people. Different... whatever this is."

He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes briefly, exhaling.