Page 8 of The Tip-Off
I give up shooting and sit on the floor, ball in my lap, as I watch him. He’s really something to take in. I’ve seen him play before, of course, but up close, all that testosterone and skill is just… well, it’s a little breathtaking if I’m honest. This is almost better than the party.
As if he can read my thoughts, he looks over and stares at me a beat, sympathy in the way he takes me in. “Do you want to go back out to the party?”
I look toward the door with longing but shake my head. “I don’t think so. Tonight is kind of a bust. This is not how I pictured it going down.” Guilt steals the air from my lungs, and it burns as I let out a breath. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that. Blair would be devastated if she thought I didn’t have a good time tonight.”
Zeke places the ball on the floor beside me and sits on it. “I won’t say a word.”
Now that I believe.
“What would you give up food for?”
I think for a minute. “I don’t know. I don’t have one big thing I want like you do. I want to do it all now that I’m at Valley, all the normal college things. That probably sounds dumb to the guy who is about to graduate and get drafted into the NBA.”
“Not dumb at all. Certainly not any dumber than choosing a death sentence so I can play basketball for three weeks. Shit, I would probably be awful too without any food to give me energy.” He looks really bothered by this, more so than the fact he’d literally be starving to death.
I laugh softly. “That is pretty dumb.”
“Got anything specific in mind or are you just winging it?”
I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, so I nod. “I have a few things in mind.”
He waits for me to continue, but I redirect instead. “Does no dating mean no anything? No kissing, no…” I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman, but I can’t bring myself to say the word.
Thankfully he knows where I’m going. “I’ve hooked up occasionally, but it’s hard—”
“I’ll bet.” I slap my hand over my mouth. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” I keep my head buried and wave him on. “Please continue.”
Humor laces his tone, but the words are serious. “Dividing attention between two things like that… it stops you from being great at either one.”
“Lots of professional athletes are married.”
“Yeah and there’s like an eighty percent divorce rate among them, too.”
I start to laugh but realize he’s completely serious. “What about casual relationships?”
He shrugs. “It’s still a distraction.”
I don’t know why this hurts my feelings, but my face heats with rejection, which doesn’t make any sense. We’re on a date. He asked me to be his date. The man gave me a freaking corsage.
“If you haven’t been on a date in…”
“Four years,” he supplies as he stands and moves toward the basket. “Maybe five.”
“Why tonight? I mean, obviously I’m amazing, but that’s quite a streak to break for a girl you barely know.”
He glances back and the panic in his eyes tells me everything. How did I not put it together before?
“Oh God.” I cover my face with both hands as my emotions spiral. “Blair and Wes put you up to this, didn’t they?” The words come out jumbled through my hands, but when he sighs, I feel confident he heard me. Of course, our best friends orchestrated this whole thing. How humiliating. I have no idea why he’d agree to go along with it.
“I’m sorry. They shouldn’t have done that.” I stand and pick up the basketball. His face is apologetic, the muscles in his neck tighten as he swallows. Full lips part and I wait in the excruciating silence to hear what he has to say. Like maybe tonight wasn’t so awful, but he says nothing.
“Gabby! Z! Open up.” Nathan pounds on the gym door, his smiling face is smashed up against the glass. At least one person is genuinely excited to hang out with me tonight.
Zeke looks conflicted, unmoving, while Nathan keeps yelling for us to let him in.
I hold up my basketball like it represents our time together and toss it toward him. He catches it easily with one big hand, still holding his in the other. “Thank you for being so nice about the whole thing, but I don’t need a pity date.”
4
