Page 297 of Playing Dirty

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Which didn’t make sense.

At all.

MASON

I didn’t sleep properly.

Again.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Coach’s face.

Then my dad’s voice.

Then Rowan’s stupid messages.

All layered together like noise I couldn’t shut off.

At 3:12 a.m., my phone buzzed again.

I didn’t even hesitate this time.

Rowan:

Are you awake or do I have a texting problem?

I stared at it for a second.

Then typed:

Mason:

Both are possible.

Three dots.

Rowan:

Good answer.

Then:

Rowan:

You always like this?

I frowned slightly.

Mason:

Like what.

Long pause.

Rowan:

Like you’re carrying something heavy all the time.

That stopped me.

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