Page 41 of The Assist
“No. I’m just trying to figure you out. What’s the game he mentioned?”
“Mason has a home game next week.”
“And you’re going?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“So, you help your teammates study, you tutor failing students in your spare time—”
“That one was not my choice, if I remember correctly,” he points out.
“You attend high school baseball games and support local businesses . . . you’re like a decent guy under that arrogant, egotistical exterior.”
He holds a finger up to his lips. “Shh, not so loud.”
“No, honestly. It’s hot.”
His mouth pulls into a big smile. “Well, if you put it that way.”
“What’s your family like back in Kansas?”
He visibly stiffens, but the smile only falls for a second before it’s back. “If I tell you we had Sunday dinners every week and I call my mom every day is that going to get me extra points?”
As if he needs them.
“Depends on if it’s true.”
A tall kid with shaggy hair desperately in need of a haircut brings our food to the table. Wes stands to shake his hand. “Mason, how’s it going? How’s the arm?”
Mason bobs his head and cradles his arm protectively. “Good. I’m starting next week.”
“I’ll be there.”
Mason’s face shows his excitement, but he gives a one shoulder shrug like he’s too cool for school.
“Mason, this is my friend Blair.”
I offer a wave. “Nice to meet you. Good luck next week.”
Mason does some sort of blush, nod, wave before he disappears into the back.
“Good kid,” Wes says as we dig into our food. “Parents too. They’re at every game, home and away. I know it can’t be easy working the hours they do, but they make it work.”
“Do your parents make it to many games? Must be hard being so far away.”
He doesn’t look up as he answers. “They’ll be there if we make it to the Final Four.”
All right, that seems to be a touchy subject. I let him lead the conversation after that, which includes him asking me the most random questions about myself.
How the coffee shop quotes came about, my favorite songs and books and television shows. I can barely get in a question back as he fires them off one after the other. It’s surface-level stuff, but one thing I learn for sure about Wes Reynolds is that, despite the lack of information he gives me about himself, he’s damn good at making me feel special and wanted.
* * *
Wes
I drive back to campus after dinner, but I’m not ready to end the night, so I park at the house and then usher her across the street to Ray Fieldhouse. Going inside would only lead to me kissing her, and trust me, I want that, but I promised this girl a date.
“Tell me something about yourself that has nothing to do with basketball.”
