Page 20 of Most Valuable Players
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My shiftat the café ends at three thirty, so I reek of coffee and whipped cream as I walk up the sidewalk toward a house I can’t believe belongs to anyone I know.
It’s only a block from the baseball house so I guess it’s fitting – most the jocks live near the fieldhouse. But this isn’t like any other off campus house I’ve seen. It’s huge, and the lawn is manicured with shrubbery and flowers. It’s obviously landscaped professionally and often.
I check the address three times. It’s only when I hear the faint sound of a basketball bouncing from inside that I believe I’m in the right spot.
Wes’s instructions were not to knock, so I disregard all manners and push open the door and hold my breath, preparing for anything.
Standing in the entryway of the massive place, I gawk. The room I share with Vanessa would fit inside the foyer.
Zeke comes down the stairs, sans shirt, a pair of long shorts slung low on his hips. I try not to stare but I figure it would be a crime not to admire all that muscle. A series of tattoos trail from his left shoulder all the way down to his fingers. He nods to me and attempts a small smile. His gesture makes me take a deep breath and relax.
“Hey, Zeke,” I pause. “You know where I can find Wes?”
“He’s in the gym upstairs.”
“The gym . . .” My voice trails off as he continues past me walking toward an open room with a large television mounted on the wall. Unsurprisingly, it’s tuned to ESPN and a couple of guys are lounged back in big armchairs that look like theater seating.
“You aren’t coming?” I call after him. Joel mentioned they’d need help too.
He shakes his head and keeps going without saying any more.
Oh-kay. I walk up the stairs, the sound of basketballs leading me to the court. It’s a half-sized version of the one at Ray Fieldhouse and even has the roadrunner mascot painted on the sideline.
Three guys are positioned around the hoop, a ball cart full of basketballs between them, but Joel and Wes huddle together on one side. A shirtless Joel stands with his hands on his hips, watching Wes carefully. Wes has a basketball in one hand and uses his other to emphasize whatever he’s saying.
I walk slowly toward them as I take in Wes’s focused and determined face and the way he so effortlessly holds the ball, dribbling it occasionally or palming it with one large hand, fingers splayed out to cover what seems like half the ball. It doesn’t look like he is even aware he is doing it. The ball is an extension of his hand.
Joel nods slowly, as if a light bulb is being switched on in that pretty head of black hair. He holds both hands out, asking for the ball as he cuts to the top of the three-point line. Wes passes, a crisp fast move that has the ball in Joel’s hands before I can be thoroughly impressed with the way he moves. The ball arches to the net and in. The guys move toward each other happy smiles on both their faces as they exchange some words I can’t quite hear.
“Hey.” I hang back a few feet, giving them room for their bro moment.
Joel and Wes turn to me in unison.
“Stat girl,” Joel says with a smirk. “You’re just in time. We’re just finishing our study session. He’s all yours.”
Joel has the sort of charisma and good looks that convince girls to do dumb things like make out with their friends or follow him to his room.
Or send nude photos.
I shake away the negativity and give his sweaty forehead and chest a once over. It doesn’t look like much studying has taken place, but I’m not about to argue that point.
Joel lifts his head to Wes in acknowledgment. “Thanks, man.” He bounces the ball to Wes and tips his head to me. “Catch you later.”
“It’s just the two of us?” My voice is a screech, but I’m too nervous to care. “I thought Zeke and Joel were joining us.”
“They had some stuff they needed to do this afternoon, so we studied early. They’re good, so that just leaves you.”
We stare at each other for a moment. Well, I stare. He is probably trying to figure out what is wrong with me while simultaneously devising a plan to get the crazy, gawking girl away from him. He has to be used to that by now, though, right?
“You ready?” Wes finally asks.
“Sure. Yep. Great,” I manage with more confidence than I feel.
“We can study downstairs in the television room, but I think some of the guys are down there hanging out, or we could go to my room.”
“Your room,” I blurt too quickly and then fumble to cover my slip. Great, now I sound like I just want to get him alone. “I mean, the quiet would be good.”
