Page 14 of His Reckless Freshman

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?