“So basically, you’re monetizing your name while playing in college.”
“Yep.”
“Do you consider playing for UNC an unpaid internship?”
“Isn’t that what it is?”
“I mean, I guess.” I shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
He sets the pancakes in front of him and dives right in again. I focus on my açai bowl. After a moment, I look up at him. His eyes meet mine not even a split second after I look at him and once again I have to swallow back this yearning I can’t seem to kick.
“So.” I lick my lips. “Do you think the student athletes that got in trouble for selling and distributing will get somewhat of a break in light of this new NIC thing?”
“NIL.” Mitch chuckles. “It’s NIL. And I don’t know. This hasn’t gone through yet. It’s not official.”
“When do you think it will be official?”
“Soon. Unfortunately for my brother, not soon enough. He’ll probably be out of here before me at this rate.” He shakes his head, eyes back on his pancakes.
“Does that bother you?”
Another shrug.
I sigh and finish eating my bowl in silence. It’s obvious he’s not going to talk about the arrests and I’m not going to keep pushing him to. It’s not like I have to. I have an entire lineup at my disposal that I can question.
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan opens the door to their apartment and I walk in quietly, notepad in one hand, cup carrier with four Frappuccinos in the other. Dylan relieves me of the cup carrier and thanks me as he walks into the kitchen and I shut the door behind me. Mitchell’s voice is boisterous and animated as I walk farther into the apartment and find three of the baseball players and Maverick in the living room, watching Mitchell as he demonstrates some type of pitching form. I lean against the wall and watch along, without disturbing. This is what I wanted, to be a fly on the wall, immersed in their element without them noticing me. It’s the only way to write an authentic story on them.
“So you’re propelling the ball with your hips,” Maverick says.
“No.” Mitch sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Pay attention.” Mitch is setting up his stance again. “I’m here, right? My arm is back here. Then, when I’m about to let go of the ball, I point my toe this way, and pivot my hips, so the momentum is coming from my back leg, right here.” He slaps his hamstring. “And then I let go.”
“Bro, you’re telling me this would work on any ball I throw?” Mav frowns.
“What balls are you throwing?” Rodney asks with a chuckle. “You only know how to swing a hockey stick.”
“Fuck you. I played baseball and hockey in high school.” Mav raises an eyebrow. “I have a mean arm.”
“He does,” Mitchell responds, almost grumbling.
“If that’s the case, why’d you stick with hockey?” Dylan asks, walking over to them with the cup carrier. They pluck the Frappuccinos out of the holder and only then does Mitchell look back and see me, his green eyes alighting with surprise and something that makes warmth pool in my stomach.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asks.
“Long enough to have learned a thing or two about throwing the ball hard.”
“Faster,” Mitchell says, lopsided smile on his face that makes my blood pulse. “I’m glad you’re learning something.”
“You should write something about me in that article you’re working on,” Maverick says, slurping on the Frap. “And Rocky. I bet she’ll let you follow her around.”
“She’s only focusing on athletes who are in the thick of it,” Mitch says. “And you’re about to go pro.”
“You could go pro too.” Maverick shoots him a look. “I hate when you use that jealous tone of yours like you can’t be playing in the majors right now.”
“I can’t.”
“It’s too early for this conversation.” Maverick leans back on the couch and sighs. “Anyone else get tired of this guy’s whining?”
Dylan and Rodney chuckle but don’t say anything and I remain quiet because I’ve seen these two brothers come to blows once or twice and I’d rather not feed into it.
“Is practice canceled today?” I ask because they’re all sitting around like they have nothing to do.
“Yep. All week,” Rodney says. “We’re going to have an unofficial practice later though. Six.”
I groan. “I can’t go at six.”
“Why? What do you have going on?” Mitch asks.
“Work.”
“Are we still on for this weekend?” Maverick asks.
“Definitely.” I smile. “Rocky is still on board, right?”
“Yeah, she’s going.”
“As am I,” Mitch adds.
“Cool.” I try to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“How’s your school handling all this?” Mav asks.
“I mean, I’m writing an article on your school’s athletes, so I’d say they’re trying to bury it under the rug?” I let out a laugh.
“Right, let us take the fall.”
“I mean, most of the athletes were in your school, so . . . ”
“Bullshit. You know this goes from here up to Ellis, right?” Mav asks. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it started in Ellis.”
“Sketchy bastards,” Dylan says.
“I’m surprised you didn’t go to Ellis,” Rodney says to me. “You transferred from NYU, right?”
“Yeah, and I don’t have a death wish.”
“You believe all those rumors?” That’s Dylan.
“About the missing girls and the secret societies?” I blink. “Uh, yeah.”
“You believe them?” He glances at Mitch, Maverick ,and Rodney, who all nod.
“I have a couple of friends in secret societies up there,” Maverick says, then shoots me a look. “Don’t get any ideas because I’m not giving you any names.”
“That’s fine.” I laugh. “I wouldn’t want them anyway. Like I said, I value my life. I have enough anxiety without having to worry about getting kidnapped and killed.”
“Fair point.” Mav slaps his legs as he stands up. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“What do you have going on right now?” Mitch asks.
“Rocky’s at the park and practice is canceled for me too so I figured I’d go practice with her.”
“Soccer too, huh?” Dylan says. “You’re just good at everything with a ball then?”
“Yup. Especially these two.” Mav grabs himself with both hands. I shake my head as we all laugh. He smiles and straightens. “Sorry, Mist. They just don’t stop trying me, you know?”
“It’s fine.” I shrug a shoulder. “I’ll walk out with you.”
“You’re leaving too?” Mitch asks.
“Yep. I have to catch up on homework before I go to work.” I flash a smile. “Bye, guys.”