Page 38 of The Baller

I laid back down, folding my arms behind my head.

We’d been fifteen minutes into the flight when Radley’s message had come through. For the remainder of that flight, I’d spent the time wishing I hadn’t been so obviously happy she’d replied, or to put it differently, I wish I hadn’t told any of them anything about my lifeever,because it became the sole topic of conversation.

I know, because I tried to change it several times.

The second I told them she’d replied, my three traveling companions jumped into action, taking it upon themselves to give me help I never asked for, and come up with a suitable response. It was an experience I never want to repeat, and I’m still baffled how the four of us manage to function in civilized society.

It’s almost a blessing that we’re baseball players with healthy bank accounts and a level of cache that means we don’t usually have to try very hard to get girls, or we’d be single forever. Tanner would definitely end up with a cat… or five.

In a nutshell, it took four grown men almost six hours to draft a text message that read “You’re welcome. Maybe I can use you for references when I’m done playing ball.I’m thinking of a career change…”

It had been unanimously voted as the best of several terrible options, but by that point, every single word had lost its meaning. For the second time, I winced and hit send on a message to a girl I liked.

Then got very drunk.

Another message was waiting for me when I woke the next morning with the mother of all hangovers.

Goldilocks: Sure. And there’s always the C.I.A. if the Secret Service doesn’t work out for any reason… can’t think why it wouldn’t.

I’d chuckled, which had shot a bolt of pain through my brain, so I decided to wait for my hangover to subside before I replied. Not to mention I wasn’t lucid enough to come up with anything witty to respond with.

Once again, I didn’t hear from her until the morning, and soon learned the only window I had to talk to her was before her first class at eleven. She always signed off when she arrived, and I’d hear nothing more for the rest of the day.

In those brief fifteen minutes, we’d talk about what classes she had – Jane Austen, Shakespeare, something aboutVictorian women which nearly sent me back to sleep – or whether she had time to run back to her dorm when she realized she’d forgotten her books, or how much coursework she already had. She told me how much she loved spending time in Brown’s, and yesterday we talked about what our favorite books were.

In fact, books and reading seemed to be the subject she was most comfortable with. Any time I tried something new, she’d steer us right back. I’d let her, and then she’d sign off. After the first time, I hadn’t been sure I’d hear from her again, but there’d been a message waiting for me every morning I’d woken up this week.

It had been five days, and I had a feeling I’d barely scratched the surface of Radley Andrews. I also knew I wanted to. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it had something to do with the girl I’d seen standing nervously on her own in a bar surrounded by people, and the girl I’d met with fire burning in her eyes.

Ace waved a hand in front of my face. “Weston, what do you talk about?”

Realizing he was still waiting for my answer, I turned my head to face him. “Books.”

“Books?”

“Yeah, books.”

“What sort of books?”

“The type you read, dumbass.” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh.” He was silent for a moment, but I knew it wouldn’t last. One… two… three… four… “Have you told her why I tanked the Opening Day last season?”

“Yes. It was the first thing I told her.”

“Really?”

I turned my head toward him again, squinting in disbelief that he believed me. His knock to the head had clearly damaged some brain cells too. “No, Dude. No. Of course I haven’t.”

“Don’t forget to tell her.”

I’d probably forget to tell her.

I said nothing; instead, I held my hand out. “Pass the sunscreen, will you?”

Before handing it to me, he squeezed out a large dollop in his palm and smeared it over his face, rubbing so hard it was like he was trying to remove his top layer of skin. The sunscreen was so thick it had turned his eyebrows white, and left a thin stripe along the edges of his hairline.

I squeezed out less.

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