Nothing but Net
The Campus Everyone Talks About
If Northbridge University was known for one thing, it wasn’t its academics.
It was basketball.
The kind of basketball that packed twenty thousand screaming fans into an arena every Friday night. The kind that produced NBA lottery picks. The kind where every freshman knew the starting lineup before they knew where the library was.
And unfortunately for me...
My first class overlooked the practice court.
I adjusted the strap of my tote bag as I stepped into the business building, trying not to look like the lost freshman everyone could spot from a mile away.
“Need help?”
A girl with glossy dark curls, gold hoops, and a smile that belonged on a magazine cover leaned against the hallway wall.
“I’m Ava.”
“Lena.”
She grinned. “Business major?”
“Finance.”
“Oof.” She winced dramatically. “You’re one of those.”
Before I could answer, the hallway erupted.
Not because a professor walked in.
Because they did.
Five guys.
Tall enough that everyone else suddenly looked average.
The unmistakable Northbridge Wolves basketball team.
Conversations stopped. Phones discreetly appeared. A few girls pretended not to stare.
I understood why.
The first guy looked like he’d stepped out of a sports campaign—dark hair that curled just enough, warm olive skin, and shoulders that stretched the fabric of a plain gray hoodie. His laugh carried through the hallway like he owned it.
Beside him was someone completely different. Blond, effortlessly put together, with blue eyes and the kind of smile that probably got him out of parking tickets.
Then came the captain.
Six-foot-six.
Broad shoulders.
Jet-black hair.
A sharp jawline that somehow made his permanent bored expression even more intimidating.
He wasn’t smiling.
He wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
Which somehow made him the hardest person to ignore.
“That’s Mason Carter,” Ava whispered.
“The captain?”
“The legend.”
She wasn’t exaggerating.
Every banner in the athletic center seemed to have his name on it.
Conference Player of the Year.
Projected first-round draft pick.
Campus celebrity.
He walked straight past us without looking around.
Until...
His eyes met mine.
One second.
Maybe less.
Then he kept walking as if nothing had happened.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“Well,” Ava said, nudging my shoulder. “Congratulations.”
“For what?”
“You survived eye contact.”
I laughed.
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Oh, you’ll learn.”
That afternoon the student union buzzed louder than a stock exchange.
Freshmen rushed between club tables.
Upperclassmen reunited after summer.
Music echoed from the courtyard.
“This campus is insane,” I muttered.
“You haven’t even seen game day yet.”
Ava pointed toward the massive arena rising above the trees.
“When basketball season starts? Forget it.”
Just then, a basketball rolled across the sidewalk and bumped gently against my shoe.
“Sorry!”
A player jogged over.
Not Mason.
One of his teammates.
He smiled easily as he picked up the ball.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Before he left, another voice called from the court.
“Cole! You coming?”
The player jogged off, spinning the ball on one finger before tossing it behind his back with ridiculous ease.
I couldn’t help watching.
Not because they were athletes.
Because they looked like people who had their whole lives figured out.
Scholarships.
Fans.
Future careers.
Confidence.
Meanwhile, I still hadn’t figured out which building held my economics lecture.
“You’ll fit in,” Ava said.
“What makes you think that?”
She smiled knowingly.
“Because around here...”
She glanced toward the practice court where Mason Carter caught a pass without even looking.
“...everyone’s story starts with someone they never expected to notice.”
As if he could hear his name, Mason glanced toward the courtyard again.
This time...
He didn’t look away first.
Mason looked away only when one of his teammates shoved him with a shoulder.
“You good?” the blond one asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been zoning out all practice.”
Mason bounced the ball once, hard enough that it echoed through the outdoor court.
“I’m fine.”
The blond teammate followed Mason’s gaze toward the student union.
Toward me.
“Oh...” A slow grin spread across his face. “Freshman.”
Mason rolled his eyes.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re always just saying.”
Their coach blew his whistle.
“Again! From the top!”
The conversation ended as quickly as it began.
I didn’t realize I’d been watching until Ava snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Earth to Lena.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve been staring.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I was people-watching.”
“Right.”
She laughed and linked her arm through mine.
“Come on. If we’re lucky, orientation pizza won’t taste like cardboard.”
By Thursday afternoon, campus already felt smaller.
I’d memorized the fastest route to my finance lecture, found the only coffee shop that made iced lattes worth eight dollars, and accidentally walked into the engineering building three separate times.
Not my finest moment.
“You have a gift,” Ava said.
“For what?”
“Getting lost.”
“I prefer ‘exploring.’”
She snorted.
“Whatever helps you sleep.”
We climbed the library steps, backpacks slung over one shoulder.
The quad buzzed with music and conversation. Frisbees flew overhead. Clubs competed for attention with free T-shirts and candy.
“This place is ridiculous,” I said.
“Wait until basketball season.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“Because it’s true.”
She nodded toward the athletic center.
“Those guys are practically celebrities.”
“Does everyone know them?”
“Everyone.”
Before I could respond, a familiar voice echoed behind us.
“Move!”
A basketball bounced once.
Twice.
Then rolled straight toward my feet.
Again.
I trapped it with the side of my sneaker before it could continue downhill.
A second later, footsteps approached.
Not rushed.
Calm.
Confident.
I looked up.
Mason Carter.
In daylight, he somehow looked even taller.
A black practice shirt clung to his shoulders, and a few loose strands of dark hair had escaped whatever attempt he’d made to keep them in place after practice.
Up close, his expression wasn’t cold.
Just... unreadable.
He stopped a few feet away.
“You play?”
His voice was lower than I’d expected.
I blinked.
“What?”
“The way you stopped the ball.”
“Oh.”
Heat crept into my cheeks.
“High school.”
“What position?”
“Forward.”
One corner of his mouth lifted.
“Bullied people in the paint?”
“I held my own.”
“Hm.”
“Hm?”
“I believe you.”
He held out his hand.
“The ball?”
“Oh.”
Right.
I tossed it toward him.
He caught it one-handed without looking.
Show-off.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He turned to leave.
Then paused.
“Finance, right?”
Now it was my turn to stare.
“How do you know my major?”
“You were carrying an intro finance textbook upside down yesterday.”
“...”
“...”
“I wasn’t reading it.”
“I figured.”
And just like that...
He walked away.
No smile.
No wave.
Just a casual jog back toward the court as if he hadn’t completely caught me off guard.
Ava appeared beside me seconds later with two iced coffees balanced in her hands.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“He asked if I played basketball.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
“And?”
“He knew my major.”
Ava’s jaw dropped.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She grabbed my arm dramatically.
“Lena.”
“What?”
“The Mason Carter just remembered something about you.”
“I think he remembered that I looked stupid.”
She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee.
“Oh, this semester is about to get interesting.”
By Friday, I had developed a routine.
Wake up.
Coffee.
Finance.
Pretend not to get lost.
Pretend not to glance toward the athletic center every time I walked past it.
The second one was becoming increasingly difficult.
“You’re doing it again.”
I looked away from the practice gym windows.
“I’m literally just walking.”
“Mhm.”
Ava smirked.
“You’ve become incredibly interested in architecture all of a sudden.”
“I appreciate modern design.”
“You appreciate six-foot-six basketball captains.”
I bumped her shoulder.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet... I’m right.”
Friday nights at Northbridge weren’t about parties.
They were about Midnight Madness.
The first open basketball practice of the year.
By six-thirty, the student section was already packed. Music blasted through the speakers while freshmen fought for decent seats.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
“What?”
“There are this many people... for a practice?”
Ava laughed.
“Oh honey. You still think this is a normal university.”
The lights suddenly dimmed.
The arena erupted.
One by one, the players jogged through a tunnel of flashing lights as the announcer introduced the roster.
Every name drew cheers.
One, however, nearly lifted the roof.
“YOUR CAPTAIN...”
The pause alone made thousands of students scream.
“...MASON CARTER!”
The roar was deafening.
He jogged onto the court without acknowledging the crowd, slapping hands with his teammates before grabbing a ball from the rack.
No theatrics.
No flexing.
No waving.
He simply walked to the three-point line.
The gym quieted.
One shot.
Swish.
Another.
Swish.
Another.
Nothing but net.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I whispered.
Ava grinned.
“That’s why scouts follow him everywhere.”
The warmups continued, each player putting on a show.
Windmill dunks.
Alley-oops.
Half-court shots.
The crowd loved every second.
Then the scrimmage began.
Mason barely celebrated when he scored.
He communicated with quick hand signals, directed traffic, and constantly looked for the open man.
It wasn’t flashy.
It was...smart.
He made everyone around him better.
I found myself leaning forward in my seat without realizing it.
“You’re studying him,” Ava observed.
“I’m studying basketball.”
“Sure.”
“He has incredible court vision.”
“Listen to you.”
“What?”
“You’ve been watching him for exactly three days and you’re already analyzing his game.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Okay.
Maybe she had a point.
The scrimmage ended with the starters winning by eighteen.
Fans poured toward the exits while players signed basketballs and posed for pictures.
“You want to wait?” Ava asked.
“For what?”
“The autograph line.”
“I don’t need an autograph.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Truthfully...
The last thing I wanted was to stand in a line of girls hoping for thirty seconds of conversation.
I had too much pride for that.
We turned toward the exit.
“Hey.”
A deep voice carried over the crowd.
Not to everyone.
To me.
I turned.
Mason jogged over, a towel draped around his neck.
“You dropped this.”
He held up a navy-blue notebook.
My notebook.
My stomach dropped.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for that.”
“It was under our bench.”
“Our bench?”
“You left it near the baseline.”
I frowned.
“I wasn’t anywhere near the baseline.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You walked down after warmups.”
“...”
“...”
“Oh.”
I’d completely forgotten.
During one of the breaks, I’d wandered closer to take a picture of the arena.
Embarrassing.
“Thanks.”
I reached for the notebook.
For one awkward second...
We both held onto it.
Neither of us let go.
His eyes met mine.
Green.
Not brown.
Not hazel.
A ridiculously unfair shade of green that somehow looked even lighter under the arena lights.
He released the notebook first.
“You should write your name inside.”
“I usually do.”
“You didn’t.”
“I guess I forgot.”
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Guess so.”
Behind him, one of his teammates yelled across the court.
“Carter!”
Another voice followed.
“Practice tomorrow at eight!”
He nodded without taking his eyes off me.
“See you around...”
He paused.
“Lena.”
I hadn’t told him my name.
Before I could ask how he knew it, he turned and jogged back toward his teammates.
I stood frozen.
Ava slowly looked at me.
Then at Mason.
Then back at me.
“Okay.”
She crossed her arms.
“Now I’m interested.”
“So am I.”
“How does the captain of the basketball team know your name?”
I looked down at the notebook in my hands.
Tucked inside the front cover was a folded piece of paper that definitely hadn’t been there before.
I carefully unfolded it.
In neat handwriting, only four words were written.
Stop reading people.
Start letting them surprise you.
