Page 20 of His Reckless Freshman

Shit, I really am the worst. I should have suggested someplace else… or at least offered to buy the drinks.

Clearing my throat, I’m on the cusp of apologizing when she launches into her obviously rehearsed spiel.

“Thank you so much for meeting with me today. I know it’s an inconvenience, but I swear I’ll make it worth your time. I know we only have thirty minutes, so I’ll try to keep things brief, but I’d really love you to answer honestly. Authenticity is attractive to people, you know? And I want genuine answers that I can use to your advantage. I really think your team makes for an interesting story, and we can highlight you guys before the season. My hope is that we can get more butts in seats at your games. How cool would that be?” Her eyes sparkle when she glances up at me.

I nod, biting my lips together and trying not to notice how deep her dimples are.

Looking down, I brace myself for the first question and hope I can protect my team the way I’m trying to.

“Okay, let’s dive in. Because we’re on limited time, I’m going to skip all those surface feature questions and just get straight into the deeper stuff that makes for an interesting story.”

I frown. Shit, what the hell does she mean by that?

“So, I spent my evening researching basketball, and I now understand the point of the game and most of the rules.” Her self-deprecating laugh makes my lips twitch. “So, tell me, Ben Evers… what’s the thing about basketball that nobody ever asks you about?”

I blink. It’s impossible to hide my surprise.

That’s her question?

Usually, when anyone ever bothers to interview us, we’re fielding stuff about stats and game strategy, what it feels like to lose yet another game, does the team have any ambitions for the next season, etc. That’s what I was expecting from her too, but instead, she’s diving straight into that gap between what people see and what’s actually there.

“Um…” Giving myself a second to think, I take a sip of Sprite, then start to nod. “I guess what it’s like to be a part of something bigger than myself. To be part of a team with really likable guys who I don’t want to let down. We train together, we sweat together, we ache together.” She starts scribbling down my words, and for some reason, I just keep going. “But then it’s also those moments when I’m all alone on the court—those days I get there before anybody else. I’ll sometimes go early to practice my three-pointers or free throws. And it’s just me and the ball and that bounce echoing off the walls… then the swish of the net.” I grin and shake my head. “Damn, I love that sound.”

She pauses, glancing up at me, her big gray eyes kind of gleaming, telling me that was the quote she was looking for.

I swallow and snatch the can, gulping down another few mouthfuls of soda.

“Good answer,” she murmurs before reading through her notes again. “I like the way you talk about your team. You guys must be close.”

“Yeah, a few of us live together in the same house, so it makes us tight.”

“Do any of them drive you crazy?” Her eyes sparkle like she’s desperate for the gossip, and I have to shake my head.

“No comment.”

She laughs as I poke my tongue into the side of my cheek and fight my grin.

“Who on the team would you run through a wall for?”

I tip my head as if I have to think about this, but I really don’t. “Any of them.”

“Really?” she presses, and I nod.

“Yes. And I’m not just saying that because I’m worried what you might write about. I honestly would do anything for anyone on my team, because that’s what being a team player is. You fight for one another. If you can’t trust the guys off the court, how the hell are you supposed to play your best game?” Her nose crinkles as she writes, and I let out a soft sigh. “Okay, fine, so we’re not the best team. But it’s not because we’re not out there working together. Everyone else is just taller and faster and better than us. Except Jimmy. That guy could go all the way if he’d just let himself. In practice, he’s like a world-class player, but then it comes to game time and he just… loses it. I think it’s the pressure from the crowd or something.” I let out a disappointed tut. “I mean, I know the crowds are small, but it’s still people watching him, and he’s a really private guy. But he’s got so much potential,” I murmur to myself. “It’d be great to see him overcome whatever nerves take him out during games.”

“Jimmy.” She moves her pages around and pulls out a sheet of paper. “Oh yes, Jimmy Li. His stats are… okay?”

“Yeah, well, they should be better.” I grin, but then my smile suddenly falters. “Actually, shit, I don’t know if I should be saying this stuff about him to you. I don’t want you writing that he chokes on game day.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiles at me. “I’m not out to write some gossipy article. I swear.” Looking back down at her notes, she taps her pen.

I wince. “Can we just keep that whole bit off the record?”

Biting the end of her pen, she gives me a playful look. “You know, you’re actually supposed to say that before you⁠—”

“Yeah, I know, but please.”

She smiles, looking down at her pages and nodding. “I can do that for you.”