“If the number of 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?”