Page 47 of His Reckless Freshman

I think I’d rather die than have to talk about sex with the guy again. Although, I should really thank him for putting me on to Bridgerton. Or at least telling me I could watch it without getting permission first.

I felt like such an idiot when he said that.

But he obviously grew up in a very liberal family where he could do whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and didn’t have parents or teachers or pastors or youth leaders hanging over him to make sure he was living the good life he should be living.

Biting my lips together, I stare at his words until they start to blur.

Ben: How are you? Just checking in. Hope you had a good weekend.

Nothing about the article, just a simple check-in. It’s sweet and all, but how do I respond? Why can’t I just send back the same fluff I sent my father? I don’t know. Is it because I think Ben will see right through it if I try that?

It’s just a text. Stop being so afraid of it. It’s not like you’re having to look the guy in the eye and talk to him!

“Jolie!” I jolt at the sound of my name, glancing over my shoulder and feeling my stomach drop.

Oh no. He’s walking right toward me!

As much as I want to bolt, I turn to watch the tall basketball player lope across the grass. He has such long strides, and I like the way his brown hair bobs as he picks up his pace into a slow jog.

He quickly erases the space between us, and now he’s standing right in front of me, towering over me all tall and strong with his beautiful jawline and gentle smile.

“Hey,” he greets me, and I gaze up at that sweet face while dropping my phone into my bag. I’m going to have to apologize for not responding to his text at some point. “How are you?”

His voice is tender, like he’s coaxing a frightened kitten out of a corner.

I clear my throat and squint against the sun that’s just above his shoulder. He shifts so I can see better.

He’s so incredibly sweet. It makes my insides flutter, but I seriously don’t want fluttering around a man who knows way too much about me already. Well, way too much embarrassing stuff about me.

“Hi, Ben.” I force a smile. “I’m good.” My head starts bobbing as nerves scatter through me.

Have you seen the article? Did you like it? Put me out of my misery already! But don’t ask me about the other stuff. Let’s just keep this light and fluffy.

“I read your article.”

My head pops up, and it’s impossible to hide my desperation. “What’d you think?”

His smile grows. “It was really good. And the guys liked it too.”

“Really?” My voice pitches. “Are you serious? They don’t hate me anymore?”

He chuckles. “They never hated you. They just didn’t want to talk to you. But they were all super impressed with what you wrote, so… on behalf of the Nolan U basketball team… thank you, Jolie Carmichael.”

I can feel my cheeks getting all warm as I smile up at him. “You’re welcome. I didn’t write anything that wasn’t true, and you made it easy with your awesome answers.”

His pale brown eyes warm with another smile as his lips twitch.

And suddenly I’m feeling studied, like I’m a piece of art at a museum and he’s trying to interpret the deeper meaning.

Yeah, I’m so not up for this kind of scrutiny right now.

Tucking my hair behind my ears, I force another smile, then say, “Okay, well—” at the exact same time he says, “Can I take you out to say thank you?”

The rest of my sentence drops off the edge of a cliff when I realize what he just said.

He wants to what?

“We’ll go somewhere better than Marty’s. I’ll buy you a strawberry milkshake from the best place in town. It’s called Eat Your Faves. Have you been there yet?”