Page 14

Chapter 14

Evie

Logan doesn't flirt during our not-a-date that Friday. We meet in my office. I eat a snack with coffee, he sips from his smoothie. I ask about work, he answers to the point but sufficiently.

Forty minutes into our conversation, I've relaxed enough to get into it.

"One last question." I finish my coffee and stare at him. "People have been commenting on your performance, and wondering if the team has recovered enough from the slump of past years to make it into the playoffs. Some people think there's no way, some others say it's the perfect underdog story. What do you have to say to the detractors?"

"That we'll prove them wrong. We've worked hard and we'll continue to go out there and show everyone what the Strike is capable of."

"Great answer, again."

"You were right. Practice has helped."

"Wait. Did I hear…? Did you say I was right?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't let it get into your head. "

"Why wouldn't I? You're Mister Confidence on the field. I'll take your words and let it build my confidence in my field. Media training comes to save the day."

"What I've learned in our many dates is that media training is all about taking turns saying a whole lot of nothing, saying the same thing in twenty different ways, then saying something new once in a while when the questions are actually good."

I laugh. "I'll give you this. You're right about that."

"Thank you."

"Now we need to focus on keeping the momentum. You're doing so well. The photos of you with the guys for brunch the other day were so cute—"

"Cute?" He scratches his eyebrow.

He's leaning back on my couch. There's enough light in my office from the window that I see the confusion in his hazel eyes.

I should look up what the changing colors are about.

I sip from my coffee. "And Dom and Saint have said great things about working with you and feeling like you all are getting to the point you can read each other's minds—"

"The guys and I are going out on Monday night again. Want to come?"

That shuts me up.

"I'm glad you're going out with them," I finally say, "but I try not to… implant myself in players' lives outside of the professional realm."

"Why?" He frowns and peers at me. "Everyone adores you."

"It blurs the lines."

"Going out with my teammates is making us friends. Would you call that blurring the lines?"

"That's important if you need to read each other's minds. I don't need to read your minds."

"Sounds like an excuse."

It is, but I don't want to tell him the real reason. I can't pay my way when going out with them, and I won't ask them to pay for me .

They may be rich, but they owe me nothing. Even if we become friends and it somehow comes to light they don't mind, that means letting them do that for me. Depending on them for it. I would owe them.

I can't add that to my plate.

I cross my legs, my arms, and lean back on the couch as well. "I have to be careful, okay? I can't keep up with you guys."

"Keep up? Stamina wise?" He gives me a dubious look. "I don't buy it."

"I just need to have a very good reason to go, and I don't have one at the moment."

"Is that what you need to do before you come and keep me company while I'm seen ? Have a good excuse?"

"I have my reasons."

"Which are…?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I like to understand people. Doing media training while out and about is a very hands-on approach. It will help us both. It's what I'm proposing. Why are you avoiding it?"

I purse my lips and struggle to keep it in. He's so direct it makes me want to match him. His quick wit reads as steadfastness to my brain.

When I first saw him across the bar years ago, it was the frown and serious demeanor that gave me that feeling. Today that's here, too, and it's weakening my resistance.

In our fast-paced conversation, it's harder to push down a quick truth.

"Evie…"

The deep notches in his brow mark lines of concern. His thick, black eyebrows are heavy, just like his eyes when he peers deep into my face.

"What are you not saying?" he asks.

I believe his concern. I shouldn't do anything with it, but I've been holding my situation in for too long. None of this conversation was expected, and the surprise finds the cracks in the walls .

The truth drips out of me.

"Going out is not in my budget." I cast my eyes down. "That's all."

He doesn't say anything, and I don't look up at him.

"Now you see it's not a big deal." I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. "Just an issue of responsibility and living within my means."

"I can pay for you."

"No way I'm letting you do that."

"Evie. If you have a tight budget, or if you are struggling financially, a night out is something simple I can help—"

"It may be simple for you, but it isn't for me, okay? Please, let it be."

He studies me for a long time at my please . I hold myself in place, even when I want to shrink away. His scrutiny, careful as it is, makes me feel like I'm in a petri dish under a microscope.

He purses his lips. "The more I learn about you, the more questions I have."

"Don't ask more right now. I don't like to open up."

"I gathered."

"It's going to give me a vulnerability hangover, you know?"

He stands up and finishes his smoothie. With one of his small smiles tilting his lips, he offers me a hand. I frown, confused, but I take it.

I stand, and he keeps my hand in his.

"No one here knows this is why you keep to yourself, do they?" he asks.

"That's another question, Logan."

He lets go of my hand. My palm tingles from the touch, and I interlock my fingers in front of me to curb the sensation.

"You can save the answer for next time we chat," he says. "But I think I know what you will say."

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

His lips stretch in a closed-mouthed, barely-there smile. It's mesmerizing. It's like a gift I received for showing him a tender piece of me .

He takes a step back, on the way out of my office. "I would say I've graduated from media training, wouldn't you?"

"Nah. But we're in the maintenance phase. Reinforcing the gains. As long as you don't get yourself in trouble."

"Keep an eye on me all you like, Miss Moreno." He smirks. "I'm learning to enjoy it."

He disappears into the hall. With him gone, I release some of the tension that kept me ram-rod straight on my feet.

I lean my hip on the side of my desk and cross my arms. Nervous butterflies skip over my diaphragm. Not only because I shared something I've kept close to my chest for a long time, but also because it was easier than I thought it would be.

It's evidence that Logan and I are getting closer. That even if I've been trying to find a line where I don't care too much about him, I think he has started to care about me.

The fact that it's easy to believe blurs the lines for me, too.

I'm worried… but not as worried as I should be.