Page 17 of The Tip-Off
Zeke swipes through the photos a dozen times, his face pure concentration.
“Do you want me to pick?” I offer.
“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m looking for.” He stops on a picture and hands me the phone. “I like this one. That dunk was awesome. I can’t believe you captured it.”
“That one is good, but the focus needs to be you. I can’t see your face in this one.” I go to my favorite and show him. “I like this one.”
“I don’t even have the ball.”
I roll my eyes. “No, but you’re smiling and having fun.”
He grumbles.
“How about we post them both?” I offer as a compromise.
“Yeah, alright.”
I text both pictures to his phone and show him how to add more than one photo to a post and then we download a hashtag app, so he doesn’t have to try and come up with the clever tags on his own.
“Thank you,” he says quietly when we’re finished. I can feel his eyes on mine, and I take a deep breath before I allow myself to meet them.
“You’re welcome.”
I can feel Zeke’s desire to run off even before he announces he’s gonna shower. The crowd outside has doubled since the game ended and people are standing around, drinks in hand.
I watch Zeke disappear into the house and lean back on the lounge chair taking in the easy way everyone interacts. Every person I’ve met today has been friendly and welcoming, but I’m still not part of their circle. Not really. When I’m introduced the byline is always,Blair’s friend, Gabby.
Nathan catches my eye from across the patio and motions me over.
“Gabby, baby, wanna be on my team for beer pong?” He shakes a plastic cup at me.
“You know it.” I grab the cup and take one last fleeting look toward the door where Zeke disappeared.
8
Zeke
Lying on my back,I toss the basketball into the air and catch it. The sound of leather gliding over my calloused palms and off my fingers doesn’t do shit to block out the noise from the party outside. For all the fancy shit in this house – double insulated walls didn’t make the cut.
I grab my headphones and phone from my desk and settle back on the bed. When the music filters through, I close my eyes. I’ve always loved music, but it’s become so much more in these past years. Shut the world out, music on. Just me and the melodies. The soundtrack of my life is a mixtape of other people’s experiences. A little screwed up? Maybe, but I’ve got too much on the line to get swept up in the noise.
The music isn’t working as quickly tonight. When sleep doesn’t come, I take them off and note that the racket outside has stopped. The wall vibrates with the shut of Nathan’s door. Party’s over. The guy might keep me awake with his late nights, but it’s a comfort to know he’s here and safe.
Nathan and I are the least close of the guys in the house. I’ve got a single focus and he does too, they’re just not the same focus. And his, though not my problem anymore, still annoys me. He’s so talented and he just doesn’t seem to care. Sure, he works hard in practice and he is a huge asset in games, but all the rest of the time? It’s a fifty-fifty chance he’s either getting wasted or working on his ab game.
Some days I roll downstairs at five a.m. and he’s already up working out like he gives a shit, and other days he’s passed out on the couch, beer still in hand, and reeking of smoke. I don’t understand why someone with so much talent would waste it with a half-assed mentality.
My phone vibrates from another notification and I press ignore like I did all the other times. How Gabby was able to orchestrate a mini photo shoot, make a post, and suddenly the whole damn world knows I’m on Instagram, is beyond me.
I stopped keeping track when it went over the ten thousand mark. Even Joel, who should be lying on a beach somewhere drinking Mai Tais or some expensive, fruity drink, found me. Doesn’t make any sense to me that people want to see more of my personal life.
Sara is excited though. She’s already demanded more casual pictures showing my life as a “typical college athlete.” There is nothing typical about my life.
Movement next door catches my attention and I listen intently while I try and figure out if it’s Nathan settling in for the night or if I need to check on him. But the noise is coming from the other side of the wall. Standing, I walk to my bedroom door and open it a crack. There’s definitely someone in there. Shit, did Nathan pass out in the wrong room? Wouldn’t be the first time.
I head to Wes’ room, push open the door and let out a sigh before saying, “Yo, Nate, you’re in the wrong—”
But the end of that sentence gets lost somewhere between Gabby’s bare legs and the curves that are on full display in the white one-piece swimsuit she’s wearing. She’s bent over, head peering in an oversized bag on the bed.
