Page 54 of With the Assist

She reaches for her water, fingers wrapping around the glass as she stares at it for a second longer than necessary. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, worrying it slightly.

“Being out like this feels different,” she says finally. “The pretending, the teams, the noise… all of it. It’s nice not being me for a night.”

The words land more heavily than they should.

Wesley Miller, the most fascinating person I’ve ever met, wanting to step outside of herself, even for a few hours, feels like an injustice.

“But this is still you,” I say, quieter now. “Just a different part. You don’t have to shut one off to be the other.”

She has to know that she’s perfect as she is. Ordering a beer and hanging out with friends doesn’t have to be some mask she pulls on.

She glances up at me, really looking this time, like she’s trying to decide how much of that she believes.

“I’m not really good at juggling.”

Her gaze sharpens, focus narrowing, and I can practically see the calculation happening. Deciding what to say and what to keep to herself. Finally, she sighs.

“In college, junior year, I let loose a little.” She huffs out a small laugh. “Hardly at all really, but enough that I got busted at a party the night before a game.”

Her fingers trace the rim of the glass as she talks, slowly.

“I wasn’t even drinking. I was the DD. But I wasn’t twenty-one and was holding a beer in the images that floated around. I was on a full-ride scholarship. It looked bad.”

I nod, hoping she’ll keep talking.

“I almost lost my scholarship,” she continues. “It didn’t matter that I was sober. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t mine.”

The lights above us flash, casting her face in brief shadows, and for a second, she looks younger. Less untouchable.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Nothing.” She shrugs.

My face twists with confusion.

“When I thought they were going to pull my scholarship, there was this split second of just full body relief.”

That surprises me.

“No more pressure. No more expectations.” Her voice softens. “I had an out.”

Okay, yeah. That I get. More than most people would.

“It makes sense. You’ve spent your whole life committed to one thing.”

“Yeah.” She nods faintly. “I felt like shit about it after.”

She takes a sip of her water, then adds, “A week later, my dad got laid off. My sister’s college fund went into holding us over for the next year.”

I nod, the versions of Wesley all blending together into the one in front of me.

Her mouth curves into a small, almost disbelieving smile.

“The next year, I got my rookie contract. Helped pay off the house and get Emma’s college fund back.” She glances at me. “If I’d lostthat scholarship, I don’t know what would’ve happened to my family.”

The weight of it settles between us, heavier than the music, heavier than the crowd.

“Do you even like it?” I ask, my voice low enough that it barely carries past her.