James had just stepped out of Mech Design. The hallway felt too bright, too loud. His face was blank, same as always, but something underneath was shaking.
His heart wouldn't slow down. It was like his chest forgot how to breathe. He closed his eyes, exhaled. Nothing changed.
He'd just bombed his presentation. The design was perfect. But when it was time to speak, it all fell apart. His legs locked. His mind froze. The words were there, somewhere, but they scattered before they reached his mouth. All he could feel was sweat crawling down his back. He rushed through it, then left.
"That was my one shot," he muttered under his breath. "My GPA's really screwed this time."
He yanked up his hoodie and started walking. The sun was hot as hell, and it wasn't even summer.
"James, what the fuck are you doing?" he whispered.
He couldn't afford a failed course. Not now. Not when everyone thought he had it handled. His brother, his aunt, the few family he had, they believed in him. They sponsored his education and that pressure was choking him.
Then his thoughts went sideways. Tami.
His stomach twisted.
"What do I even know how to do?" he thought. "All I'm good at is hooking up and leaving. All I do is mess people up."
He paused, staring at the ground like it owed him answers.
"What would she think?" he asked himself—his mom. Would she be proud? Would she still see him as her boy, or just another lost cause pretending he had it together.
Barry tapped James on the shoulder from behind.
"Yooo," he said, already grinning. "What was that, man? You bombed that shit like it was an airstrike."
James sighed. "Yeah… I'on even know, bro. My brain just packed up and dipped."
Barry laughed. "Nah, for real. You were up there like a deer caught in a TED Talk."
James gave a weak smile. "I blacked out halfway through. I think I described a gear as 'the spinny thing.'"
Barry doubled over. "Bro. BRO. You're done. Just drop out now."
"Thinking about it, honestly."
"Nah, you'll bounce back. Just gotta stop dying inside every time you open PowerPoint."
James snorted. "Easy for you to say. You gave your last presentation with a rap verse."
Barry smirked. "And the prof gave me a B-, because charisma. But you? Your design was phenomenal, you just gotta stop looking like you're confessing a murder."
James groaned, rubbing his eyes. "My GPA is on life support, man."
Barry threw an arm around him. "Don't stress. He likes you, he'll probably give you a B+. If not, we'll fix it. Or fail together. Either way, we eatin' pizza tonight."
As they were walking past the cafeteria steps, a group of guys in basketball jerseys and sweats walked up, tall, athletic build, the kind that screamed we run this court.
"Yo Barry," one of them called out, clapping him up with that half-hug, half-slap thing guys do when they're cool. "What's up, man? We're heading to the court. You in?"
Barry grinned. "Ayy, say less." He turned to James. "Yo James, meet the squad. That's Dre, with the headband. Malik's the one looking like he hasn't slept since finals week. And that's CJ, the loud one."
CJ grinned. "Facts. I am the loud one."
James gave a little nod. "Nice to meet y'all."
"You hoop?" Dre asked, already bouncing a ball between his hands.
"Yeah, sure" James said, a little hesitant but honest.
"Aight then," Malik said, tilting his head toward the courts. "Come through. We always need new blood."
CJ added, "And don't worry, Barry sucks too, so you'll fit right in."
"Man, shut up" Barry shoved him, laughing. "I'ma dunk on your mama."
***
They'd been hooping for maybe half an hour. Barry was sweating buckets, Dre was talking trash like it was a full-time job, and James was barely hanging on.
"Yo pass it, pass it. BARRY NO!" CJ shouted as Barry threw up yet another tragic shot.
Clang.
"Broooo," CJ groaned. "This man got a PhD in missing."
Barry jogged back, chest heaving. "Whatever man, y'all playin' like NPCs anyway."
"Yeah, well," Malik laughed, dribbling past him, "these NPCs got degrees from Princeton. But you still waitin' on a jump shot to load."
They cracked up. James actually smiled... rare these days. He ran, passed, even hit a clean mid-range shot that made Dre yell, "OKAY, Poker Face. He got range!"
But even in the fun, James was somewhere else.
"I should be grinding. Professor Keller already thinks I'm coasting. I can't afford another L." He thought.
He wiped sweat off his face, shook his head.
Barry jogged past. "Yo, you good?"
James nodded. "Yeah... just thinking."
"Stop that," Barry said. "You ain't built for thinking."
James smirked. "Says the dude who failed Intro to Ethics."
"That class was stupid," Barry said. "How can lying be bad if I do it politely?"
The ball rolled out of bounds and James jogged to grab it—
—and that's when he saw her.
Far end of the court. Black hoodie, phone in hand, legs crossed on the bench. Just vibing. Calm in a storm. She looked up, and then back at her screen. That was enough.
James blinked. Forgot the ball. Forget studying. Forgot everything.
"Yo," he muttered. "Who's that?"
Barry turned, squinted, then groaned. "Oh my god. Not again."
"What?"
Barry smacked him with a towel. "WHAT about Tami?!"
James sighed. "I know, I'm a horrible person."
"Facts," Barry said, not missing a beat. "But at least you're consistent."
James walked back to the court in silence, hands on his hips. "I need help."
"No," Barry replied. "You need a cold shower and a priest."