The Tip-Off: A Smart Jocks Novel

by Jenshak, Rebecca

  When the game is over, Zeke pulls himself from the pool. His wet body glistens as the water drips off him. He shakes his head in my direction with a smile on his face.

  “Have fun?” I sing-song.

  “I did,” he says and nods slowly like he’s equally as surprised.

  “Well, I got some great options.” I hold up my phone and then motion for him to take a seat on a lounge chair.

  Zeke swipes through the photos a dozen times, his face pure concentration.

  “Do you want me to pick?” I offer.

  “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m looking for.” He stops on a picture and hands me the phone. “I like this one. That dunk was awesome. I can’t believe you captured it.”

  “That one is good, but the focus needs to be you. I can’t see your face in this one.” I go to my favorite and show him. “I like this one.”

  “I don’t even have the ball.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, but you’re smiling and having fun.”

  He grumbles.

  “How about we post them both?” I offer as a compromise.

  “Yeah, alright.”

  I text both pictures to his phone and show him how to add more than one photo to a post and then we download a hashtag app, so he doesn’t have to try and come up with the clever tags on his own.

  “Thank you,” he says quietly when we’re finished. I can feel his eyes on mine, and I take a deep breath before I allow myself to meet them.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I can feel Zeke’s desire to run off even before he announces he’s gonna shower. The crowd outside has doubled since the game ended and people are standing around, drinks in hand.

  I watch Zeke disappear into the house and lean back on the lounge chair taking in the easy way everyone interacts. Every person I’ve met today has been friendly and welcoming, but I’m still not part of their circle. Not really. When I’m introduced the byline is always, Blair’s friend, Gabby.

  Nathan catches my eye from across the patio and motions me over.

  “Gabby, baby, wanna be on my team for beer pong?” He shakes a plastic cup at me.

  “You know it.” I grab the cup and take one last fleeting look toward the door where Zeke disappeared.

  8

  Zeke

  Lying on my back, I toss the basketball into the air and catch it. The sound of leather gliding over my calloused palms and off my fingers doesn’t do shit to block out the noise from the party outside. For all the fancy shit in this house – double insulated walls didn’t make the cut.

  I grab my headphones and phone from my desk and settle back on the bed. When the music filters through, I close my eyes. I’ve always loved music, but it’s become so much more in these past years. Shut the world out, music on. Just me and the melodies. The soundtrack of my life is a mixtape of other people’s experiences. A little screwed up? Maybe, but I’ve got too much on the line to get swept up in the noise.

  The music isn’t working as quickly tonight. When sleep doesn’t come, I take them off and note that the racket outside has stopped. The wall vibrates with the shut of Nathan’s door. Party’s over. The guy might keep me awake with his late nights, but it’s a comfort to know he’s here and safe.

  Nathan and I are the least close of the guys in the house. I’ve got a single focus and he does too, they’re just not the same focus. And his, though not my problem anymore, still annoys me. He’s so talented and he just doesn’t seem to care. Sure, he works hard in practice and he is a huge asset in games, but all the rest of the time? It’s a fifty-fifty chance he’s either getting wasted or working on his ab game.

  Some days I roll downstairs at five a.m. and he’s already up working out like he gives a shit, and other days he’s passed out on the couch, beer still in hand, and reeking of smoke. I don’t understand why someone with so much talent would waste it with a half-assed mentality.

  My phone vibrates from another notification and I press ignore like I did all the other times. How Gabby was able to orchestrate a mini photo shoot, make a post, and suddenly the whole damn world knows I’m on Instagram, is beyond me.

  I stopped keeping track when it went over the ten thousand mark. Even Joel, who should be lying on a beach somewhere drinking Mai Tais or some expensive, fruity drink, found me. Doesn’t make any sense to me that people want to see more of my personal life.

  Sara is excited though. She’s already demanded more casual pictures showing my life as a “typical college athlete.” There is nothing typical about my life.

  Movement next door catches my attention and I listen intently while I try and figure out if it’s Nathan settling in for the night or if I need to check on him. But the noise is coming from the other side of the wall. Standing, I walk to my bedroom door and open it a crack. There’s definitely someone in there. Shit, did Nathan pass out in the wrong room? Wouldn’t be the first time.

  I head to Wes’ room, push open the door and let out a sigh before saying, “Yo, Nate, you’re in the wrong—”

  But the end of that sentence gets lost somewhere between Gabby’s bare legs and the curves that are on full display in the white one-piece swimsuit she’s wearing. She’s bent over, head peering in an oversized bag on the bed.

  “Just me,” she squeaks. “I texted Blair to make sure it was okay. Wes said it was cool if I just crashed here. I didn’t want to worry about finding a sober ride.”

  I nod. “Sorry, yeah, of course.”

  “Wait!” she calls as I’m backtracking out of the room like there’s a fire. When I turn around, she stands up straight. “Do you have headphones I can borrow?” She bites her lip because it’s not really a question of if I have headphones, she already knows the answer, but she rambles on pleading her case anyway. “I can’t sleep without music and I left mine at home.”

  “Sure.”

  I lead the way to my room. The lights are off, so I turn on a lamp and open the desk drawer, presenting her with the options.

  She laughs. “Why do you always wear the same ones when you have so many?”

  I shrug, eyeing my red Beats. “They’re my favorites.”

  Gabby rifles through my headphones before pulling out a pair of earbuds and holding them up as if asking for approval.

  “You can keep those,” I tell her. “The cord always gets tangled and takes forever to get straight.”

  “That’s not necessary. I have some at home but thank you for letting me borrow them.”

  With a smile, she heads toward the door and my chest tightens.

  “Want some new music?” I ask, surprising even myself by the offer.

  She studies me carefully, eyebrows pulling together in confusion, before responding, “Sure. Whatcha got?”

  I sit on the bed and Gabby does the same, watching me as I pull out my phone and scroll through my many playlists. “What are you in the mood for?”

  She shrugs. “I like everything. Surprise me.”

  “Try this.” I hold my phone out for her to see.

  Instead of taking my phone, or pulling up the app and finding my playlist, she scoots farther onto the bed and plugs the headphones into my phone, puts one earbud in, and offers me the other.

  My large frame takes up most of the mattress all by itself so even though Gabby is pint-sized, I’m basically on top of her as I settle back and take the earbud. Our bodies touch from hip to shoulder. Her soft curves mold against me and I fumble with the earbud.

  As I pick it up, the cord tangles and I let out an exasperated groan as I tug on it as if to say, “See, I told you.” My effort to get it untangled is half-assed though because Gabby hits play, and the sound of Billie Eilish relaxes me and Gabby too from the looks of it. Her body melts into the bed and she lies back, giving me little choice but to do the same. I scoot up against the headboard, still mostly upright so it isn’t like we’re lying together exactly. Because that would be weird, right?

  “I didn’t picture you for a Billie Eilish fan.”

&n
bsp; “I like everything. Well, except country.”

  She smiles and then her eyes flutter closed, dark lashes against ivory skin. Her face is bare, free of the heavy makeup she usually uses to cover the scars. I can’t see them from this side, something I’m sure she considered when she sat on the bed. Gabby is always thinking of her scars. The way she stands in a room, the way she holds her head when talking to people, the nervous habit she has of playing with her hair and holding it over that side of her face. Yeah, I’ve noticed. I’d blame it on my observant nature, but I’m not sure that’s entirely all there is to it.

  The song ends and I expect her to open her eyes, take the headphones and her hot ass back to the other side of the wall. She doesn’t and the next track starts. Am I an ass if I nudge her and tell her I’m ready to go to sleep? Technically I don’t have to be anywhere at a specific time tomorrow, but I like the schedule of a workout first thing in the morning, so I’ve got my alarm set for the usual five a.m. wakeup.

  We’ve listened to four more songs before I’ve summoned the courage to politely inform her that I need to get to sleep. At my touch on her upper arm, her eyes fly open and meet mine. The words I’d planned are stuck in my throat.

  She sits up suddenly. “What was that?”

  Nathan’s voice filters through the wall – a cross between a cry and a yell.

  “Shit.” I’m on my feet and rushing to his room. I reach him just before he rips the covers from his bed. I know the routine and his next step is flipping the mattress. He swings, arms wild, looking to connect with anything. He clips the side of my face before I get both arms pinned. “Nate, you’re good, man. You’re good.”

  His eyes are glossy, and he smells like smoke and rubbing alcohol. He goes limp and settles back on the bed.

  “I’m fine.” His words are terse as he grabs the blanket and pulls it up over him. “I’m fine,” he says again when I haven’t moved. “Go away.”

  Gabby’s in the hall watching with wide eyes when I close his door. Fuck, if she’d gone in there and he’d clipped her instead of me… I don’t want to think about it.

  “Is he okay?” she asks, her voice small and wavering.

  I walk into my room, her right behind me before I answer. “He’ll be alright.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  I shrug, trying to play it off. Nathan and I aren’t close, but I’m not going to tell his shit. “He’ll sleep it off and be good in the morning.”

  She’s staring at me, a list of questions she doesn’t ask marring her features. “You’re bleeding.”

  My hand goes to my mouth where he caught me, and my fingers bring back blood. “He just grazed me. I’m gonna get this cleaned up.” I nod to the headphones. “They’re all yours.”

  9

  Gabby

  “Hey, you stay over last night?” Nathan asks as he enters the kitchen. His long hair is damp, and he pulls a grey t-shirt over his head.

  “Yeah, it was late, and I didn’t want to call an Uber, so I called Blair and Wes said I could crash in his room.”

  I wonder if he remembers last night, if he knows I was just outside his door when Zeke was restraining him, but there’s no indication from his expression that he feels embarrassed and I think he would be if he thought I’d heard.

  He settles next to me after getting a Gatorade from the refrigerator. “Whatcha got going on today?”

  “I work tonight.” I shrug. “Nothing until then.”

  “Cool. You can hang with me this afternoon.”

  I follow him out to the pool where he tosses the shirt he’d just pulled on less than two minutes ago. “Coming in?”

  “My suit’s upstairs.”

  “So, go put it on or just wear your bra and underwear. Honestly, it’s the same thing.”

  “Not the same at all. Cotton panties do not look flattering when they’re wet.”

  He smirks. “I beg to differ.”

  I push at his shoulder and he jumps into the pool and disappears underwater for a few long moments. I take a seat on the edge and dip my feet in. It’s already hot outside and the water feels great. When he resurfaces, it’s with a glint in his blue eyes.

  “Oh no. No, you don’t Nathan Payne,” I protest with a squeal as he uses my legs to pull me into the pool fully dressed.

  My jean shorts and t-shirt cling to my body. “You punk. Now the only clothes I brought are wet.”

  “Should have taken them off.”

  I pull myself, ungracefully, to sit next to the pool and wring out my shirt the best I can. Nathan hops out too, grabs his cigarettes, and sits beside me. He lights up and takes a long puff before exhaling. The smoke filters out into a cloud above us.

  “How can you be this amazing athlete with a body to kill and still smoke like a chimney?”

  Once again, I’m reminded of last night and how panicked he’d looked. I wish he’d confide in me, but sometimes being a good friend is just being there.

  He takes a long drag, cheeks hollow before he lets it out with a mocking smile. “Everyone’s got vices. This is mine. What’s yours?”

  “Reality TV and shopping.”

  His lips curve up. “Kardashians and couture?”

  “I’m not even going to question how you know the word couture.” I hold my hand out. “Let me try.”

  He hesitates, stares at the cigarette between his fingers and then me before shaking his head and handing it over. “Don’t inhale.”

  “Isn’t that the point?” I ask before disregarding his advice and taking a long drag. When the smoke burns down my chest, I cough and sputter for several long minutes while Nathan laughs at me. When I can speak, I say, “Well, that’s one item I can cross off the list for good.”

  We sit in a comfortable silence until I ask, “What do you have going on today?”

  “Whole lot of nothing. Some of the guys who stayed in Valley this week were thinking of going to Prickly Pear tonight. You interested?”

  “I’ve gotta work, remember?” I bump his shoulder with mine.

  “We probably won’t even go until eleven or so. You can meet us there.”

  * * *

  I catch a ride from a coworker to the Prickly Pear. It’s a hole in the wall bar that is more popular with the Valley townies than college students, or so I’m told.

  “You sure you don’t want to come in for a drink?” I ask Savannah. She’s a great work friend, but so far, we haven’t hung outside of The Hideout. She’s dating a guy on the Valley hockey team and her nights off seem to revolve around whatever he has planned.

  “Wish I could. I promised Smith I’d help him meal prep and watch game footage. He’s obsessed with making the most of his offseason.” She parks the car in front of the bar. “Are you sure they’re here? The place looks pretty dead.”

  I glance down at my phone and then scan the parking lot. I texted Nathan an hour ago and still haven’t heard back from him. “That must be them.” I point to an SUV with a Valley basketball license plate. I take a breath and open the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Loud, country music greets me as I enter the bar. I hover in the entrance glancing around the place until I find the table of Valley basketball players, but no Nathan. I walk toward them with all the confidence I can muster. Tanner Shaw greets me with his easy smile. “Hey, Gabby.”

  “Hey, guys.” I wave as everyone at the table stares at me. “Have you seen Nathan?”

  The guy sitting next to Shaw speaks after chuckling softly. “Last I saw him he was passed out on the floor.”

  “At The White House?”

  “Nah, baseball house.”

  Guess that explains why he hasn’t texted. “Okay, thanks.”

  I take a step back feeling all sorts of awkward for coming here only to be stood up, but Shaw stands and says, “Have a seat. I’ll get another chair.”

  I hold up my phone and motion to the door. “I’m just gonna check on Nathan.”

  He waves me off. “He’s fine, just
got started too early today. The guy was doing shots before lunch.”

  I find myself seated at the table and introductions are made. The group of freshman and sophomore basketball players are nice. One of them grabs another glass and fills it with beer from the pitcher on the table. I shoot off a quick text to check on Nathan. Shaw and the others are playing it off like it’s totally fine, but shots at noon and passing out early? That doesn’t sound fine.

  Me: Did Nathan make it back to the house?

  Zeke: No, I haven’t seen him all day.

  Me: Could you walk over to the baseball house and check on him? He was supposed to meet me at Prickly Pear, but the guys said he was passed out on the floor over there. I’m worried about him. Is that normal for him?

  Five minutes later, Zeke sends a text to let me know he found Nathan and got him back to The White House, he ignores my last question.

  Shaw pours me a second beer, which I drink more freely now that I know Nathan is okay. Nothing seems to be going according to plan lately but making the most of it seems to be the new theme of my life.

  * * *

  Zeke

  Gabby: The young guys are more fun than you.

  A second later, a picture comes through. Her and Shaw are holding their beers up high and cheesing for the camera.

  Me: Everyone is more fun than me.

  Gabby: You say that like you don’t have a choice in the matter. Come hang out.