Page 13 of His Reckless Freshman

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.”