The gym smelled of floor polish and leftover sweat. Practice had ended twenty minutes ago, but Jameson still stood at the free-throw line, bouncing the ball once, twice, three times before letting it fly. Swish. He retrieved it without looking, already lining up the next shot. On the bleachers, half-hidden behind a thick hardcover and a tangle of dark waves, sat a girl who clearly did not belong to the basketball world.Gold framed glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose. She wore a cashmere sweater, baggy jeans with a small ink stain near the knee, and sneakers that had never seen a court. A notebook rested open on her lap, pen tapping against the page in time with Jameson’s dribbles. Jameson sank another free throw, then finally noticed her.