Page 12

Chapter 12

Logan

We're flying back from an away game. In the whirlwind of the first month of my first season with the Strike, I don't see Evie much for the rest of September. We've won every game, and the interviews, community events, and related obligations have multiplied. It only adds to the hours watching tape and learning defenses.

The pressure has gone up. Fans are going wild.

But Evie relies heavily on communication via email for a while. She does not back away and helps coordinate everything with efficiency, but we do not share space. It's not far-fetched to think she may be avoiding me. I may have spooked her with my comments on the field that day. It's only fair that she rattled me with her suggestion that I go out and be seen.

I should date, she said.

Yeah. No.

Dating requires a performance. A honeymoon where you show the best of you and hope it's enough to make things work. I've never wanted to follow the rules of romance, if it means having to conform .

Worst of all, dating means having to put effort into figuring out why someone is with me. Even in the rare cases when things feel good at the start, it fizzles out when they tire of my personality. My energy is better allocated into a spectacular season, rather than decoding the nonsense of romantic love, or managing someone's expectations.

The plane lands back in Seattle. Everyone gets restless around me, itching to start their journey home even as we still taxi to our gate. I remain calm in my seat, and take a minute to check my texts when I connect to the cell network. Two messages appear on my screen.

Dad: Good game today. You're doing well.

I take a deep breath and stare at the text. My relationship with my father is strange. I want to get away from under his shadow. We're not close. It's been years since I've had a proper conversation with the guy. Yet he's not a bad person, and he'll have a few encouraging words for me once in a while.

It isn't enough to feel like it's a fatherly pat on the shoulder, or to grant more than a simple message back. To this day, I still don't know if he's happy I followed in his steps, or if he dreads that I might beat his legacy.

Logan: Thanks. I hope you're good. Say hi to Mom.

I swipe away from the chain and check the next one. This one brings warmth into my chest— humor, probably. It comes close to smoothing my frown for once, too.

Evie: Great game today. Social media is in love with you. Though that one is probably more to do with my influence than your own

I haven't checked the profiles she's managing for me, but I know she keeps a steady stream of content going. She uses several sources, including her own recordings. According to my agent, she's doing a great job and a few of her videos have gone viral. I'm told that's great news .

Logan: I wash my hands from all of that. Happy to leave it all to you.

Evie: Excellent. I plan to make a few thirst traps and I'm pleased you have pre-approved.

Logan: I revoke said approval

Evie: Too late. I already posted those. They are doing really well, so I'll post more

Logan: How are you getting this material, exactly? I haven't seen you in the locker room recently

Evie: I don't need to go to that extreme. Carefully edited training videos and slow mo do wonders for the fans' gaze

Logan: So you're saying I’m effortlessly sexy

She doesn't text back right away. I smirk. It's easy to imagine her weighing her words, hesitating between banter and flirting.

Not that we're flirting.

Or at least I am not. I don't think she is either.

Evie: I'm saying the fans are starving for content about the new QB, and will take any scraps and think they're gifts

I snort. Clearly she's not flirting. I should have trusted the way she approached me at the bar years ago. At the time there was no flirting to be seen, just a proposition. Straight to the point.

Though she has changed since then, and maybe I don't know how she would act if she were attracted to me again.

Fuck. To have her come close to me. Have her give me one of her real smiles and sultry eyes that gaze at me with desire. That she would tell me what she wants from me, in a husky voice that—

I clench my jaw. That is not on the menu. I cannot be thinking about that.

The chains I keep around such thoughts clatter as I tighten them. They're coming too loose of late. I might need extra padlocks soon.

Evie: In fact, I may work with your agent to get you a swimsuit ad so I can crash the photo session and get some content that way. Maybe with the help of stylists, make up artists, and the right lighting, we'll get something worth thirsting over

This time I snort-chuckle.

Logan: now it sounds like you want to thirst over me, and that's not very professional, Miss Moreno.

The three dots appear and disappear. I bite the inside of my lip and watch her start and delete a few more messages, until Saint leans on my airplane chair and gazes curiously at me.

He raises an eyebrow. "I was going to invite you to a blind date tomorrow, but maybe you already have plans?"

"What?"

"You look like you're sexting."

He probably didn't see who I was texting with. If he had, he would have known Evie and I were only playing our game, the one where we poke and see how far we'll go. The subject matter was purely coincidental.

I lock my phone and put it in my pocket. Saint makes room for me and I stand in the aisle.

I grab my carry on and give him an unconcerned look. "How would you know what I look like when I'm sexting? "

"I don't know, man. You looked very focused and, dare I say it, eager over what was going on with your phone. We've all been there, haven't we? Sexy photos coming through and all. Especially after a win like today's. You're doing great, QB."

I give him one of my ghost smiles.

I return his raised eyebrow. "Now I know not to interrupt when you're on your phone."

We stand in the aisle, waiting for the door to open. Several of the other players wait too, impatient to get home after game day.

He ignores the comment. "If you weren't busy with someone just now, then maybe that's a yes to the blind date? I heard through the grapevine you may be looking to go out and about."

"Who said that?"

"Evie. I said I'd take you out." He gives me a dimpled grin. "Tell me if you have any guidelines— genders you're attracted to, personality traits— and I'll set us up. Double date."

I frown. My nostrils flare. I'm trying to be less grumpy with the guys on the team, but this set up brings my grouchiness right back to the surface.

"Woah," Saint says. "I haven't seen you glare like that from up close. I'm taking that as a no on the double date?"

"It's a no on the double date."

People start shuffling out of the plane and I follow them. Saint walks behind me.

I have never been in a relationship. Dating is out of the picture while I'm playing. My hand is enough for me until the offseason.

"Still no to a date," I add for Saint's benefit. "But brunch on Tuesday sounds good. You and the guys."

"Where?"

"No idea."

Saint laughs. "Okay, I'll plan something. "

I thank him and we take the team bus to TD, where I get in my car and drive to the house I got fully furnished and decorated. It's a modern looking place, with a big yard and trees all around. Big windows allow for lots of light. It's furnished with cream and light wood furniture, and off-white walls. Even the big paintings are in gold and honey tones. It's a pretty place that I didn't have to put effort into, and it works for now.

My phone stays in my pocket while I unpack and get ready for bed. I know a text from Evie waits for me, but I don't want to reply until I know exactly what to say. How far to push the conversation, this time.

After a long shower, I get in my bed in my underwear and sit with my back against the headboard. She may not respond right away, but if she does, I'm going to be ready.

Evie: the only reason I'm thinking about this stuff at all is because of my top priority job as assigned by the owner herself. Don't forget I'm immune

Bullshit. She's not as immune as she likes to say. I've made her moan from kissing her in the hall of a bar. I convinced her to stay for more sex when she could have left right there and then. Those hours had more than chemistry— it was alchemy.

When the day comes I remind her what we had, we'll see how convincingly she can insist she's immune. But that is not today.

I shake my head and address the urgent matter at hand.

Logan: you asked Saint to set me up with a date? Really?

I check up on my emails while I wait for a response. For a moment I consider spying on the account Evie manages for me on social media, and see what she means by thirst traps. My finger hovers on the links my agent sent me, when I get a text back.

Evie: Saint is a friendly guy and he's in the social scene, which is precisely where I'd like you to be. He hooked you up with a massage therapist and with his chef, why not with a date?

Logan: how about because I don't want to date?

Evie: What? Why not?

Logan: this is definitely going beyond your scope as PR exec

Evie: we all know PR involves your private life when seen by the public, and that my job is to make the public love you

Logan: I thought they already love me

Evie: and we're still building your social credit with them. Come on, Your Highness. We need more

Logan: I'm doing everything you've asked me to do, but dating is where I draw the line

To my surprise, my phone rings in my hand. I answer her video call with a frown.

"Why?" she asks. "Tell me your issue with it and I'll try to fix it."

She's frowning, too. Otherwise, all I see is her hair up on a messy bun, and the light blue of a wall behind her.

She's not wearing make up and now the call strikes me as an intimate moment. The fact I'm in my underwear only adds to it.

It draws me in. My cock twitches, like asking me if we're getting some action soon. The rattle of chains comes louder from the basement of my mind .

I frown harder. "You can't fix my disinterest in other people."

"Oh, Logan. I know you don't hate people as much as you like to pretend. I've seen you with the guys, you know? You like them."

I purse my lips. "And yet I don't plan to date any of them."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Don't date if it's going to aggravate you so much to wine and dine with someone, but please be seen?"

"Fuck, Evie. This is the show around the game I didn't want to get involved with."

"I thought we were on the same page about this? We're trying to make sure you get what you want out of this, rather than let other people dictate the conversation about you. Tell me again what the big deal is, so we can fix it."

I rub my brow. Evie and I may have been on the same page at the start, but this particular strategy brings me too close to feeling like a puppet in the entertainment machine. Coming out of my father's shadow involves doing things differently at all levels, including the way he handled the media.

My stare is hard on the screen. "If you're throwing me to the center of a coliseum for the fun of the plebs, at least let me choose the beast I'll fight."

"Okay, a bit dramatic, Your Highness. This part may be a show, but it's going to help you become the new star of football. And if you go out with the guys, it will get you closer to them! Consider it an investment for when this wonderful winning streak inevitably ends. Your haters are going to get loud then, so let's prepare, all right?"

I grind my teeth. She's right. It's why my father spent so much time doing media things while I was growing up. If I want to fully own my corner of the league, I need to do it, too. At least for a while.

"Fine," I concede. "I'll go out, but I'll set it up myself. Don't put Saint up to it next time."

"Deal."

"We should have another one of our not-a-dates, too. I've been told I'm going to have to do a post game conference soon. "

"Uhm…" She adjusts her position and she comes out of focus. "Sure, yeah. Next week?"

The field of vision moved around enough that I see she's on a sofa, wearing a tank top and with a blanket on her lap.

A random memory hits me. Does she still have the shirt she took from me?

Shit. I want her to have kept it. I want her to remember I tore her top away when we had sex. I want her to have thought of me every time she wore it, and that it took on her smell and has turned soft with wear and the passage of time.

"Since I have to be seen ," I say, "we should go out and eat together somewhere."

My cock twitches again .

I clench my jaw, irritated with myself. What the fuck is up with me? I must be tired.

"What? No." She frowns. "In my office."

It's a good thing I'm only being practical and arguing for fun. The only reason chains clink away in the dark and padlocks strain to keep things secure, is because once upon a time I thought of seeing her occasionally for some casual fun. Which isn't dating, either.

"I have limited time to do things, Evie. Two birds with one stone and all of that."

"I don't go out."

"You have to eat."

"I do. I eat at home."

"Are you inviting me over for dinner?" I suppress a smile.

It's so easy to tease her. The quick quips really work for me. It's one of my favorite games.

"I am not!" she complains, though she has to press her lips together to hide a grin of her own.

"Then go out with me. Professionally. I'm not inviting you on a date."

"Good! We agreed on not-a-dates, and I never date."

"You don't date, but want me to date? "

"I'm not a public figure."

"So this shouldn't be a problem for you. We can go out for dinner somewhere. Nothing romantic going on. Two colleagues going out with no pleasantries and a mutual understanding that this will lead nowhere."

My chest works faster. This is the closest I've come to prodding at her, to check if she remembers our past. I'm repeating words we exchanged that night. It's not a checkmate, but I'm getting close to her king.

The risk makes it fun, but I should be careful.

She sucks in her bottom lip. "Not now. I need to do something first. Let's meet somewhere at TD next week, okay?"

I frown. I didn't expect the caginess. She's spooked, all right, but I may not know all the reasons why.

"Okay, Miss Moreno. We're doing it your way."

Relief softens her face.

"For now," I add.

I can't help myself.

She looks at the ceiling like she's summoning patience from the deepest corners of her being. I pull back from grinning again.

"Thanks for all that benevolence, Your Highness. Now go rest."

"Good night, Evie."

She gives me a small smile and hangs up without a fanfare.

I turn off my light and take a deep breath, and do not use my hand. We need the reminder. The discipline.

As sleep takes over, images of Evie weave into my mind, dreams and reality mixing. Her going to bed in a room with light blue walls. Us cuddling close so we fit together in a twin bed, exactly like the one in the dorm room where we had sex. Kissing her in the hallway of a bar. Us having dinner and going on a banter match until deep into the night .

My last conscious thought is that maybe she's also thinking of me as she falls asleep. If talking to her late at night has kept her in my mind, I might also be on hers.

I'm not sure if I want her up tonight thinking of me.

That's a lie. I do.