The Assist (Smart Jocks #1)

by Rebecca Jenshak

  “You look hot, per the usual. Relax and have fun.”

  She picks the phone up, bringing it closer to her face. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Not sure. Wes just got back, but he said he has some things to do.” Saying the words aloud makes my stomach flip—and not in a good way. I know I’m being overly sensitive, but it feels like the beginning of another brush off.

  She bites at her lip and narrows her gaze. I wait for her to give me another lecture on being too available, but her phone beeps and her expression goes serious. “Shit, he’s on his way. I gotta go.”

  “All right. Have fun and text me later. I can’t wait to hear where he takes you.”

  When we hang up, I look around the empty tutor center and stand. It’s ten minutes until we close, but no one has walked in the door in an hour.

  I shift my attention to said door, and my eyes widen when Wes fills it. His arms are full of flowers and boxes and I start to make my way to him.

  We meet in the middle, and his eyes scan the room. “Where is everyone?”

  “Tutor sessions are over, and I told them I’d lock up. What are you doing here? What is all this?”

  He shrugs, which is all he can manage with his arms full. “I was hoping for an audience, but I guess this will have to do.”

  I swallow a laugh when he begins to hand me the items he carries. A dozen red roses, a box of chocolates, a giant bag of Chewy Spree, a miniature stuffed pig, and a card that I can’t wait to read later.

  I’m stunned speechless, but manage to say, “Thank you.”

  “I know it isn’t much, but it’s all I could come up with on short notice.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m in love with you. Been in love with you, and I’ve done a really shitty job of showing it. I wanted to storm in here and tell you and everyone else because you deserve that and so much more. Guess just telling you will have to do for now. I never asked the first time, just assumed. I don’t want to do that this time. I want to be worthy. Want to be your choice. Be my girl?”

  My heart is in my throat as this amazing guy stands in front of me looking more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. “You’re in love with me?”

  He nods.

  “Dumb jock fell in love with the prissy sorority girl, go figure.”

  He grins. The cocky swagger is back as he closes the short distance between us and bends so we are eye to eye. “The smart jock fell for the hot sorority girl.”

  “She fell for him too,” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck.

  His lips slam down over mine, and I drop the gifts so I can jump him, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Probably should get out of here. I’d been prepared for an audience. Without one I’m likely to bend you over this desk.”

  I consider that, but ultimately pry myself off him.

  “All right, boyfriend.” I test the word, loving the way it sounds. “What’s next?”

  He chuckles. “I have no freaking clue. What do you say we start with a double date? Mario got tickets to some ridiculous K-pop band Vanessa likes.”

  “BTS?”

  Wes shrugs. “Don’t know, but I figure my best shot at winning over V is getting on her good side while she’s happy . . . and maybe drunk.”

  I don’t tell him what I already know—that all he has to do to win Vanessa over is keep me happy. It’ll be way more fun to let him sweat this one out. And I can’t wait to watch it unfold.

  37

  Blair

  “Are you always this nervous at games?” Gabby asks, causing V to cover her mouth and suppress a laugh.

  “I can’t help it.”

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. It’s the last home game of the season and Wes is taking the floor with his team one last time for warmups. Things have been great the past month. We’re spending all our time together, and Wes seems to be back to his old self. I know he’s still struggling to stand on the sidelines, but he’s showing up. And he looks damn good doing it.

  He looks over as he prepares to shoot, gives a wink, and then brings his right hand up to his mouth and kisses the blue sweatband. My heart does a pitter patter in my chest.

  “Blair, why didn’t you tell me how hot Wes’s teammates are? Who’s number thirty-three?”

  “That’s Joel.”

  She scrunches her nose. “The one that sleeps with everything that moves.”

  Vanessa doesn’t get her hand over her mouth in time, and she spits the soda she’d just taken a sip of.

  “One and the same,” I confirm. “Nathan is number twenty-four, and Zeke is wearing jersey fifty.”

  Zeke picks that particular moment to glance up at us. His eyes narrow, brows furrow. A look of confusion and interest crosses his face and then disappears just as quickly. Gabby ducks her head and shivers. “He’s hot too in a really intimidating way.”

  “We could set her up with Shaw. That’d drive Wes crazy.” Vanessa grins.

  The game starts, and I have a blast cheering on the team with my best friends. I haven’t seen Gabby this happy in years, and it makes me think about how much fun we’re going to have next year. And fingers crossed that Wes will be here too. He hasn’t officially been offered the job yet, but Valley would be crazy not to keep him. He’s their secret weapon even from the bench.

  Valley is on fire, and we pull ahead by twenty early on and UCLA never recovers. Gabby and I have stopped watching the game all together and are planning out all the awesome things we’re going to do when she moves to Valley. That is why I don’t see Wes until he’s standing right next to me.

  “Hello.”

  The crowd around us is patting him on the back, and I swear I can almost feel the cameras zoom in on us. I wave my hands wildly in front of me and shriek over the noise, “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m trying to watch the game. Move over.” He leans in front of me. “Hey, Gabby. Good to see you.”

  I can’t stop staring at him. I’ve never seen him up close like this in his jersey. He smells of leather and sweat and it’s giving me a contact high.

  “These seats really do suck. Good thing I’m gonna get to watch from the bench again next year.”

  “You got the job?” I yell and draw more attention to us, but I don’t care.

  He nods, and I launch myself into his arms.

  “Wes, that’s amazing. Congratulations. You’re going to be amazing.’”

  The words are true. I can already picture it. Him standing on the sidelines with that confident and determined set to his jaw. Maybe I can convince him to wear a suit like Coach Daniels. I like this idea better and better.

  As we pull apart, he leans down and rests his forehead against mine. “Didn’t really have any other choice. This girl kept busting my balls about helping my team and being there, and turns out, I’m good at it.”

  “Of course you are.”

  I throw myself at him again and hug him tightly. The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game. Wes pulls back, but neither of us move as the commotion around us becomes background noise.

  “I love you, Blair.” He has to shout to be heard over the applause and cheers. “I thought not being able to play ball was my biggest fear. It isn’t. I can live in a world where I’m not Wes Reynolds, college athlete, but I can’t live without you. Or, if I can, I just don’t want to. I should have locked you down the first day I met you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  I lean up on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. “Stop. Just stop. You had me at hello.”

  “Jerry Maguire?”

  I nod.

  “That’s what you’re going with? In front of twenty thousand people, your friends, ESPN cameras, you’re going with a cheesy Tom Cruise line?” He smiles despite his teasing.

  Is this guy really busting my balls about this? And I thought he was a smart jock. “How about this? I love you, Wes Reynolds, you dumb jock.”

  “I can work with that. Conv
inced you once I wasn’t dumb, I’ll take that challenge again.”

  “Possible outcomes include convincing me and not convincing me.”

  “Nope. Not convincing you isn’t a possibility. I have talent and heart and I know your weakness.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, wondering if he means the fact I’m absolutely insanely in love with him.

  “Yep. Chewy Sprees and my reading glasses. I have both waiting for you as soon as we get out of here.”

  Epilogue

  Wes

  Less than one percent of college basketball players make it to the NBA. I’ve known the stats since I was a kid, but it didn’t keep me from devoting my life to the game.

  I averaged eight assists, three steals, and fourteen points per game. I ate, I slept, I balled. It wasn’t enough. I’m not part of the one percent.

  I prided myself on heart and dedication. I worked harder and smarter. I saw things no one else could see on the court. I made assists that not even I was sure how I pulled off. I saw through players twice as big as me. Managed to get the ball in the hands of guys before they even realized they were open.

  I saw things before they happened—plain and simple.

  As I stand at the back of the room and watch my friend and former teammate hold up his Suns’s jersey and wear the orange-and-purple hat his agent thrust on top of his head when his name had been announced as the third pick in the NBA draft, I have nothing but the utmost love and respect for him. He’s a one percent-er, and I’m not bitter about it.

  I don’t begrudge him the success because he worked as hard as I did. We sacrificed a lot to be elite college athletes. Championship titles and awards have been given to both of us, and I’ve accepted that my road ends here. I can rest easy knowing that everything I did helped in some small way to get him where he is today.

  I saw this day happening. Always knew Z would be playing professional ball.

  On the court, I saw everything. But off the court? I never saw her coming.

  One day I was minding my own business, focused on my team, and the next, I was falling ass first for her determination and optimism. Getting the ball in the hands of an open player was my forte, but it wasn’t until she came into my life that I made the ultimate assist. I helped her get an A in statistics, and she gave me everything in return.

  As I cross the room to her, I take in my future. I couldn’t figure out what it was I was meant to do with my life without basketball, until her.

  I’ll coach, and she’ll finish school, but after that? I have no clue what we’ll do next. I hope it involves more games of PIG that I let her win, more Chewy Sprees, a lot more sex. Hey, I’m just being honest. More of all of it with her.

  Bless out.

  The End

  Thank you for reading The Assist!

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  Coming Soon

  More Smart Jocks are coming early 2019! Next up, The Fadeaway (Joel’s story).

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  Playlist

  “Run the World (Girls)” by Beyoncé

  “No Brainer” by DJ Khaled ft. Justin Bieber, Chance the Rapper, Quavo

  “Wing$” by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis

  “All I Do Is Win” by DJ Khaled ft. T-Pain, Ludacris, Snoop Dogg, Rick Ross

  “Born to Be Yours” by Kygo and Imagine Dragons

  “Wicked Games (cover)” by The Grateful Dead

  “All Night” by Big Boi

  “White Iverson” by Post Malone

  “Happier” by Marshmello ft. Bastille

  “Me, Myself & I” by G-Eazy and Bebe Rexha

  “Drew Barrymore” by Bryce Vine

  “God’s Plan” by Drake

  “Magenta Riddim” by DJ Snake

  “My Way” by Fetty Wap ft. Monty

  “King Kong” by DeStorm Power

  “I’m a Real” 1 by YG

  “Happy Now” by Zedd and Elley Duhé

  “Never Gonna Stop” by Jay Kill and The Hustle Standard

  “My House” by Flo Rida

  “On the Low” by Logic ft.Kid Ink and Trinidad James

  “High Hopes” by Panic! At The Disco

  “Hell & Back” by Kid Ink

  “Love Lies” by Khalid and Normani

  “In the Zone” by PL

  Also by Rebecca Jenshak

  Sweetbriar Lake

  Sweat

  Spar

  Stand-Alones

  Mister Cowboy

  Electric Blue Love

  About the Author

  Rebecca Jenshak is a self-proclaimed margarita addict, college basketball fanatic, and Hallmark channel devotee. A Midwest native transplanted to the desert, she likes being outdoors (drinking on patios) and singing (in the shower) when she isn't writing books about hot guys and the girls who love them.

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