Page 65 of The Tip-Off
“It’s casual,” I insist and turn to the side so he can’t see the blush on my face.
“Maybe, but it’s been a trip to see Zeke get knocked on his ass.”
“Have you heard from him since he left?”
“No. I doubt he’s had time to even look at his phone. The combine is intense. The guys get measured, weighed, they run drills, scrimmage. All in front of coaches and scouts from every NBA team in the league. It’s gotta be extra intense for Zeke coming in as the expected number one pick. Everyone is gunning for him. It’s lonely at the top – or so I hear.”
I realize I haven’t bothered to ask Zeke a lot of questions about everything happening with him. Our interactions have been all about me and things I want to do. He said that just because what we’re doing is casual that it was still special and he was right, but I’ve done a shitty job of showing it.
Simone dances up beside us and Nathan and I pull back so we can say hello. She wraps her arms around his neck, and they hug. The moment to myself allows my headache to remind me it’s still very much there. Also, I really want to go call Zeke. Even if I have to leave a message, I want to tell him I’m proud of him and excited for his future. He deserves to hear that.
“Hey, Nathan.” I tug on his arm and flash Simone a smile. “I’m gonna take off. This headache won’t give up.”
“Do you want me to come with?”
“No, of course not. Stay and enjoy the party. I’m just gonna go home and go to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I get two steps away when I pull out my phone and realize the battery is dead. Nathan and Simone are still in the same spot, so I interrupt them again. “Sorry, my phone is dead. Can I use yours to call a ride?”
Nathan pulls his keys from his front jeans pocket. “Take my car.”
I hesitate and he presses them into my hand. I mumble my thanks and he turns back to Simone completely oblivious to the war in my head. Blair and Z are the only ones that know I don’t drive. Honestly, it’s not a hard thing to avoid when everyone is always piling in together or taking an Uber.
As I walk out of the party and toward Nathan’s car, the keys feel heavy in my hand. I weigh my options. I could run back inside, borrow a phone and call a cab, or hell, I could call Blair, she’d come, I know she would, but it’s starting to feel a little pathetic having her chauffeur me around.
Inhaling and letting out a deep breath, I unlock the car and get in. I make all the necessary adjustments to the seat and the mirrors and then start the engine. The music is blasting from our drive over and I turn it off so I can focus. No distractions.
“You can do this. It’s like riding a bike,” I talk to myself out loud in the empty car.
Before I can psych myself out, I put it in drive and pull away from the curb. My heart races and I focus on breathing. I don’t even look at the speedometer to know I’m going well below the twenty-five mile per hour limit.
There aren’t a lot of cars out so the closer I get to my place, the more I relax. I start to smile when I’m in the final mile. Only one stoplight is between me and my final destination and it’s green. Feels like a literal sign that I should be going for it more.
I can’t wait to get home and call Zeke. I want to ask him all about his day and tell him I drove. I can almost hear his voice congratulating me. I don’t know why making Zeke proud fills me with such happiness, but I’m not about to dissect it now. Ten and two, Gabby.
The light turns yellow right before I get to the intersection and I hesitate, panic taking over as I try and decide between slamming on the brakes and increasing my speed. At the last second, I decide on the first. The car skids to a stop as the light turns red and I let out a shaky breath of relief. But only for a second do I breathe easy. Squealing tires has my body going rigid and I brace for the impact my brain hasn’t even acknowledged. And then everything moves forward.
33
Zeke
“If the numberof times I was told how good you looked is any indication, I think it’s going well.”
Sara is excited, which tells me I’ve done my job. She talks animatedly with her hands, her third cup of coffee sitting on the table between us. My days since arriving in Chicago for the combine have been long and grueling, but Sara’s been there every step and staying up even later to make sure I get face time with teams.
“New York has the first pick, Denver the second. You have a meeting with both of them tomorrow morning and with the Suns in the afternoon. I’ve also set up meetings with other teams, but I think it’s unlikely you’ll go any later than top three. New York and Denver both could use someone with your size, plus the hype around getting the all-around top pick gives their teams a boost. Any questions?”
I shake my head. Even that feels like it takes too much energy. I’m bone-tired and already looking forward to falling into bed and sleeping for a hundred years. Or five hours since that’s all I’m going to get.
“Really good work today, Zeke.”
I don’t remember the walk or the ride up the elevator, but when my head hits the pillow, I groan in satisfaction. I kick off my shoes and don’t even bother changing out of my sweaty workout clothes. Sleep is more important than a shower right now.
My cell buzzes but I don’t move. I know the guys are probably curious how today went, but I’ll text Wes in the morning. The second time it buzzes, I curse my nosey roommates but reach out for it without opening my eyes and fumble around until my fingers wrap around the device. I bring it to my face before I force my lids open just a crack. Hell, I’ve got twenty-two texts and ten missed calls. I’m reading the first text from Wes that says to call him when my phone rings. The fact that it’s Nathan is enough to rouse my sleep fogged brain. Alarm bells are going off and I sit up and answer the phone.
“Nate? What’s going on, man?”
34
