Page 16 of Playing Dirty
“It’s Division One basketball. Healthy stopped existing years ago.”
That one felt less rehearsed.
Better.
Realer.
I wrote something down in my notebook.
Mason watched me for a second.
“What are you writing?”
“That you’re emotionally unstable.”
“Make sure you spell my name right.”
I snorted before I could stop myself.
His eyes flicked toward me immediately.
Like he noticed every reaction I gave him.
Dangerous.
“Do you ever take anything seriously?” I asked.
His expression shifted slightly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The interview question.”
“That wasn’t an interview question.”
“Sure.”
I closed my notebook. “Fine. Officially then.”
Mason stretched his arms over his head lazily.
Which did extremely unfair things to the muscles in his stomach under that shirt.
Horrible.
“Go ahead, journalist.”
“How long have you known you were going pro?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Interesting.
Most athletes would’ve jumped at that question.
Instead Mason looked out across the emptying court.
