Ben
I’ve been at school for just over a month now, and I’m doing pretty damn well on the no-girls thing, even when they walk past me with sexy smiles and fluttering fingers that are constantly trying to capture my attention.
I frown and keep walking, hoping she doesn’t spin to follow me.
I recognize her from one of my classes, but I can’t remember which one.
Shit. I so don’t want a repeat of this morning.
I was in Java Jeans, minding my own business, thinking about an assignment, when this sweet little thing with big brown eyes and the cutest smile approached me.
I recognized her from last year but couldn’t remember her name.
We had one class together, and she was obviously happy to see me.
Instinct had me grinning back at her, until her eyes dipped and I spotted that blush on her cheeks.
Shit. It would have been so easy to sit down with her when she invited me to. We could have sipped coffee together, caught up on our summers. But I am not about that this year.
No girls.
No drama!
So, what did I do?
I channeled my roommate, Mac, and acted like a total dick.
“No, I’m good.”
“Oh.” She blinked up at me, surprised by my terse response to her invitation. “I just thought we could catch up and…”
Her voice trailed off. I have no idea what my face was doing, but it can’t have been good, because her eyes got all glassy. “Ben, are you all right?”
“Just don’t have time for a catch-up. Don’t ask me again, okay?”
Her eyes kind of rounded, her face flushing from pink to red. “S-sorry.” She sniffed, dipped her head, and bolted for the door.
Shit, I felt like the world’s biggest asshole.
Because I acted like the world’s biggest asshole!
I’m trying so hard not to get my heart burned again, but acting this way sucks.
How do I let chicks know that I’m off the market? Not because I have myself a girlfriend, but because girls suck and my sappy heart can’t take another rejection.
School and basketball. That is it this year.
Thankfully, despite the fact that school is already getting intense, I’m really enjoying it.
There’s something about the justice system that appeals to me.
It’s not perfect by any means, but I do love the idea of fairness and equality.
I like the idea of people who do bad shit to others having to face the consequences and people who have done nothing wrong being proven innocent.
I’m still trying to decide which kind of lawyer I want to be.
Part of me wonders if I should do something like my dad and go for drama-free law, like business or tax, which is purely transactional.
But the thought of litigation kind of inspires me.
I guess I’ve watched too many courtroom dramas, but there’s something about that kind of law that excites me.
Arguing a point with logic, proving guilt or innocence.
Should I be a defense attorney or a prosecutor?
Both are intriguing, and I guess once I move on to law school, I’ll start to get a real sense of what I want to pursue.
For now, I want to enjoy my last two years here, play basketball, ace my classes, and—
“Ben? Ben Evers?”
I glance over my shoulder to watch a skinny girl with a blonde bob come running toward me.
She looks twitchy and nervous, and her big gray eyes are so earnest when she stops beside me and forces what she must think is a confident smile that I have to slow my step.
Because it’s not a confident smile. Her nervous energy is so potent that I can practically smell it, and I don’t want to be a heartless asshole and ignore her, even if she is trying to make a pass at me.
You’re supposed to be acting like an asshole, remember?
Nice guys always lose. Channel Mac again and act like you don’t give a shit about anything.
I force myself not to smile politely like I normally would.
“So, hi.” She bobs on her toes. “How are you?”
“Good.” I nod, frowning at her, although I’m actually trying not to laugh at how awkward she is.
“That’s great.” She clears her throat. “Do you have a minute?”
“Just a minute,” I murmur, now wondering if she’s about to ask me for money. She’s holding notes against her binder; her eyes keep darting down to them. Maybe she’s collecting for one of the many student organizations at this school.
If that’s the case…
My shoulders start to relax.
But then her expression lifts, like she’s surprised I’m still talking to her.
She hugs the binder against her chest and flashes me two deep dimples.
“So, I’m Jolie Carmichael, and I’d love to chat with you about basketball.
I know you’re on the team and…” Her rushed words start to fade as a warning light flashes in my brain.
Wait, is she the girl from the school paper?
The one Darian warned us all about?
“So, I just really need a chance to talk to some of the players. And you’re a player.
A really important one, so if I could start with you, then…
” Her smile slips when she finally looks up and notices my shaking head and the fact that I’m starting to inch away from her.
“Oh, come on, please.” This look of pure desperation crumples her expression.
“I need an interview. I’ll come totally prepared.
I swear I won’t waste your time, and I can talk fast. See?
I’m doing it right now. I’m quick and efficient, and I promise you won’t regret it. ”
I can’t help a scoffing laugh. “You sure you want to talk to a guy from the worst team in the school?”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I was just stating facts!” Her skinny arm that seems too long for the rest of her body swings out wide. “You guys had the worst performance of any team in the school last year, but that doesn’t mean you’re the worst in the whole country or anything.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean…” She squeezes her eyes shut and huffs. “I want to highlight you guys. Make you look good. I want to write an article that will help people see that you’re a great team. I want to focus on your attributes and what it’s like to keep fighting when you’re at the bottom of the standings.”
Huh. That actually sounds kind of good. But loyalty to my teammates forces me to roll my eyes and argue. “Come on, you got lumped with this assignment. You don’t even want it. You’re a newbie freshman, and they threw this at you to shut you up.”
Her face bunches into a sharp frown. “How do you know I’m a freshman?”
I give her a look that tells her it’s so obvious, and she kind of hunches in on herself, but her frown stays sharp.
Sharp and determined.
Shit.
“Look, I don’t care if that’s true or not.” She huffs. “I mean, it’s probably true, but I don’t care. I’m going to write the best article I can, because this is my shot at getting published in the school paper.”
“Please.” I scoff. “You’re going to write some gossipy article just to get more people reading it, and I don’t want to be a part of that. You’ll write some sensational bullshit that will make us look even worse.”
Her eyes round like she’s horrified by the idea.
“That’s not true. I want to make you shine.
I’m not about drama, I’m about authenticity.
” Her voice pitches, and for reasons I can’t explain, I find myself not walking away from her.
“I mean, all you have to do is give me good answers. I’ll only report on what you tell me.
I’m honest that way. I never write lies, I swear.
I won’t embellish anything. I’ll just write an article that highlights the team.
It’s up to you to make them sound awesome.
Seriously, I know, like, nothing about basketball. ”
My expression crinkles while my lips twitch. “And yet you’re writing an article on a basketball team?”
Her cheeks flush pink, her eyes dipping to the ground as she grips her binder a little tighter and starts the toe-bobbing thing again.
“Did I just admit that out loud? I didn’t mean to do that.
I’ll totally google, like, everything I can before I meet with you.
I’ll even watch a game and try to understand it.
” She glances back up, her expression all wide and hopeful.
And dammit… if I say no, I’m going to crush her. I can just picture the way her face will fall. Will her eyes glass the way that other girl’s did this morning?
Ruth! Shit, her name’s Ruth, and I made her cry.
Fuck.
“I’m sure there’s some ‘Basketball for Dummies’ YouTube clip I can watch,” the would-be reporter chirps. “I’ll stay up all night prepping if I have to. I just need you to say yes. Please.”
Pulling her binder away from her chest, she takes a pen from the back pocket of her jeans and starts scribbling notes on the pad she had wedged between herself and the binder.
Why isn’t she just using a phone?
This girl is weird.
Walk away. Now!
I watch her lips move as she writes something, probably a reminder to study basketball tonight, and… I don’t know. There’s just something so off-kilter about her.
“Please, Brad.” She glances up from her writing, her eyes glowing with another desperate plea.
I can’t help a dry look as I softly correct her. “It’s Ben.”
“Ben!” She looks mortified, whimpering to herself as she no doubt preps herself for my no.
Which is seriously what I should be saying.
We agreed as a team that we wouldn’t be talking to this chick.
But when she slaps her hand over her eyes and whimpers again, something in my chest starts to pull.
You’re already made one girl cry today. Are you seriously willing to do it again?
Guilt shreds me and I go quiet, staring at this twitchy girl in front of me.
I remember how hard it was starting college. Freshman year can be a bitch. Trying to find your way, fit in, feel like an adult when you’re still struggling with feeling like a kid.
And she’s desperately trying to join the paper, obviously pursuing something she enjoys doing, and…
“Look, I know I screwed up with your teammates yesterday, but please give me a chance.” Her hand drops away, and her eyes are back to imploring me. “I need this. And yes, I know that’s selfish, but I’ll also make sure the team benefits as well. Just let me have a chance to prove it to you.”
My frown is dubious, I can feel it, but something inside me is refusing to say no.
Nice guys don’t win! Nice guys don’t win!
The chant runs through my brain on repeat.
She blinks, her expression starting to crumple. “Please don’t force me to write this article based solely on what the internet can teach me and what I think I know about your team.”
“You don’t know anything about my team.” I raise my eyebrows at her.
“Exactly.” Her eyes go all wide again. They’re so big and gray and… I seriously do not want to notice that about her.
And shit, are they starting to glass?
Yep, they’re definitely getting shiny.
Fuck!
Letting out a sigh, I run my hand through my hair and stupidly murmur, “One interview,” before she starts crying on me.
She gasps, her eyes bulging as she bounces on her toes. “Really?”
Shit. What did I just say?
Why, Ben? Why are you such an idiot?
“Yes! Oh my gosh!” She lets out a soft squeal. “You won’t regret this, Ben. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Squeezing my arm, she keeps jumping on her toes, and I glance around, hoping nobody’s watching. “When are you free? Where should we meet? Can you do tomorrow?”
I raise my hand to try and calm her down. “Yeah, I can probably do tomorrow. Just, ah… give me your number, and I’ll check my schedule and text you a time and place.”
Why? Bail! Tell her you changed your mind!
Or better yet, just don’t text her.
That’s so mean. You cannot be that much of an asshole.
“Okay.” She scribbles it down on her notepad and rips off the bottom half of the page, handing it over with a triumphant smile.
I pinch it between my fingers, wondering again why she isn’t using her phone. “Do you… have your phone on you?”
“Yeah, somewhere. My bag tends to swallow it.” She nods, then grins at me like I just made her day. “Seriously, you’re the best. Thank you, Ben.”
Her dimples flash once more before she spins and—oh shit, is she skipping?
Thankfully, she only does a couple of little jumps before falling into a walk. It’s quick, but with these short steps that make her look awkward. Her limbs really are kind of long.
There’s something so incredibly nerdy about her, yet I find myself softly laughing as I watch her go.
It’s not until she disappears around the corner and I look back down at her scribbled number and the fact that she dotted the i of her name with a love heart that the doubts start to creep in big-time.
Shit, what have I gotten myself into?
Why did I agree to it?
Because you felt sorry for her. You’re such a softy.
Dammit. I am too nice, and now I have to sit through an interview that we all agreed not to do.
But what if she wasn’t lying and she does make the team sound really good?
That’s not a bad thing, right?
“Hey, Ben. You okay, man?” I spin and see Jimmy and Mac ambling toward me.
I quickly stuff the piece of paper into my back pocket, because they’re studying me like I’m doing something wrong. I shake my head, raising my hand at them and forcing a smile.
“All good.” I turn and walk off to class, my insides thrumming.
Shit. They’re going to be pissed if they find out what I’ve done.
If?
They definitely will if her article gets published!
But there’s no guarantee of that. I can’t go back on my word and not do the interview with her now, but I’ll just make it brief so she can write her article, which probably won’t make the cut, and then no one will be the wiser, right?
It’ll be fine.
I’ll do this one nice thing, and then I’ll never have to see her again.