Zeke leads me into the gym on the second story of The White House.
“When I said I wanted to go somewhere quiet, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“It’s the only place off limits during parties.”
He turns on the lights and grabs two basketballs from a rack. He extends one to me and I eye it curiously. He can’t be serious.
“Really?”
He looks unsure as he gives a little shrug, ball still held out toward me. His eyes light up and he drops the ball to my feet. “Wait, I know what we need.”
Confused but intrigued, I watch as he tucks the other basketball under his arm and takes out his phone. His head bounces from side to side as his thumbs tap on the screen.
“Here we go,” he says as music pumps into the room. He pockets his phone and dribbles toward the basket.
I take a moment to look around the room, taking in the gym. I’ve seen it before, but never really appreciated how nice it is. The polished wood floor is a half-court version of the one at Ray Fieldhouse from the blue and yellow lines on the court to the Ray Roadrunner mascot painted on the wall. It’s a sweet place. Joel’s dad is the president of Valley U and he bought this place and outfitted it with everything the guys could possibly need – and way more. It’s not as outrageous as some of the big university athletic dorms, but it’s pretty over the top.
Moving up to the free throw line, I try to think back on what I learned in junior high basketball while I watch Zeke take shots. He’s more relaxed than I’ve seen him all night. Even in dress clothes, he looks like he belongs with a basketball in his hands.
“It’s a little intimidating shooting hoops with you.”
“Don’t worry about it, I make everyone look bad on the court.”
I’m taken back by his words until I meet his gaze. He’s smiling and wears a cocky grin he’s never flashed my direction before. I feel that look in my toes. “You’ve got jokes, huh?”
He shoots, rebounds his ball and then dribbles to me. “Let’s see what you got.”
Under his scrutiny, I take my time getting into position at the free throw line and then shoot. I cringe as the ball doesn’t quite make it to the rim. Airball.
Zeke gets my ball and brings it back to me. “Try again.”
“Who knew the night could get more humiliating,” I mutter under my breath, but I take another shot anyway. This one at least hits the rim.
After my fourth miss, he hands me the ball and then instructs me to widen my stance. “Good, now bring your right foot forward just a tiny bit.”
Instead of trying to talk me through the upper body, he guides my arms up and into position and then moves my hands where he wants them. Goosebumps race to the surface at his warm touch. His hands are strong and steady, and it’s a sad realization that this is the most a man has touched me since my car accident nearly four years ago.
“Alright, use your legs and really follow it through, let it roll off those fingertips.”
With more concentration and focus than I’ve used since trying to read through Game of Thrones fan theories, I stare down the red rim and shoot.
“Yes!” I jump as the ball goes through the net. Freaking finally.
“There you go. Nice. Do it again.” He sends the ball back to me with a bounce pass.
Intent brown eyes watch me as I line up and try and get into the same position.
“So, I’ve gathered parties aren’t really your thing. Is this where you usually hide out?”
“Who says I usually hide out?”
“Everyone. Also, I was in town visiting Blair for the party after the last home game of the season. I don’t remember seeing you.”
“It’s not that they aren’t my thing, I just don’t party much during the season. What about you?”
“Are parties my thing?”
He nods.
“Yes. Well, I want them to be. I’ve only been to the one and I wasn’t a student yet. So, this is my first official college party. I’m officially a fan, though. There’s something so magical about the bass of the music and people dancing and having a good time. Well, everyone but you.”
“I’m having a fine time.”
“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special. You’re having a fine time. At least I don’t have to worry about you telling anyone how awful our date was.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you don’t talk much.”
“Burn,” he says and his lips curve into another smile. “I’m a man of few words.” Palming the ball in one hand, he raises it toward me like he’s pointing. “How about the best date I’ve been on in four years?”
“Well, then you’d just be lying.”
He raises a brow and then turns to shoot without speaking.
I dribble and bring the ball up, pausing before I send the ball sailing to the basket. “This is the only date you’ve been on since then, isn’t it?”
I remember the guys giving him shit once about never dating, but I’d assumed they were exaggerating the situation.
He winks and keeps rebounding his ball and putting it back. He’s gotten into it now and is shooting like he’s at practice. Basketball in dress clothes – it’s a good look.
“So, parties aren’t your thing, dating isn’t your thing, what is your thing?” He opens his mouth to tell me what I already know, but I stop him. “Besides basketball.”
He shakes his head. “It’s my only thing.”
“If you had to give up food or basketball, which would you choose?”
He dribbles as he answers. “I’d die without food.”
“Some things are worth dying for.”
A deep chuckle echoes in the gym. “So, basketball for three weeks… maybe less since I’ll be wasting away or a lifetime without it?”
“Mhmmm.”
“That’s savage.”
“That’s what makes it such a good question. You can learn a lot about a person by what they’re willing to give up for the things they really love.”
He agrees with a head bob and another quiet chuckle and goes back to focusing on the basketball goal.
“Peanut butter or jelly?”
“Both.”
“That’s cheating. You can only pick one.”
“Peanut butter.”
“Show up to class naked or knee to the balls?”
“Class naked.” He shivers like the other option is too awful to contemplate.
I keep firing off questions and he answers – not in a lot of words, but I’m getting used to the subtle way his body language says what he doesn’t. Right now, he’s relaxed, and he thinks I’m at least a little bit funny. I can work with that.
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.”
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