Page 15

Chapter 15

Logan

The club Saint invited me to is dark and loud. We're in the VIP section with another twenty people, half of them friends of Dom and Saint's. Damián is here too with his girlfriend, Natalia, as well as Bear who brought his best friend Penélope.

While Damián and Bear are happy to chat with their guests and other friendly people, Dom is occupied talking into a redhead's ear. Saint, on the other hand, takes turns chatting with two brunettes competing for his attention. Based on a few comments I've overheard, I think he's taking both of them home tonight. Good for all of them, if they're all happy with that.

Me, I try to interact with Damián and Bear's group. I'm not here to chat anyone up, nor am I interested in being seduced either. Not even a direct proposition would work on me tonight… unless Evie was the one making it. I admit to that only because she was successful once. Since she's not here tonight and it's probably a bad idea anyway, I don't have to fret about what it means.

Despite all the work I've been putting into being friendlier with the guys, I'm not feeling chatty. I keep quiet, listening to the conversation and nodding or chuckling at the right time. It's a fun group, at least, since they don't talk about football. I learn about them as people, with stories such as how Pen was the first to give Leon his Bear nickname, or how Damián and Nat would be confused as a couple even before they were together, and still never clued in about their feelings.

"For years people assumed we would get together," Nat says. "But it took me a long time to figure out my real feelings. Now I feel we lost years to it!"

Damián puts an arm behind Nat, over the backrest. "We didn't lose any time, Nat. We were still living our lives together, in a way. Just missing out on a big thing or two."

The VIP zone has several lounging areas, set up as interconnected sitting sections with velvet sofas, plush divans, and upholstered seats. Deep purples and blues on every surface keep the ambiance elegant, while teal, neon lights hidden in the recesses of furniture and alcoves give us just enough light to see each other. Side tables make room for food and drinks, conveniently placed within reach of the patrons.

"I know what you mean about people expecting you to be a couple," Pen says. "People think Leon and I will get together one day."

"Will you?" I raise an eyebrow.

Bear snorts. "Nah. There's nothing like that going on between us."

"And you, Logan?" Nat asks. "Any friends you're never getting together with?"

I smirk and pretend to be thinking of the answer. Evie's face flashes through my mind, but we're not friends, so it doesn't count.

"To borrow Bear's expression, nah," I say.

I wouldn't call whatever Evie and I have as friendship, per se.

We have a past. I remember the sounds she made when I was deep in her. I know she has a secret tattoo. I'm as attracted to her today as I was that night we met at a college bar. The look on her face while filming me at the gym the other day tells me she's attracted, too.

Immune, my ass .

But that doesn't mean we'll get together. Even if we end up having sex again, it will never be more than a hookup to release the tension building between us. Feeling good together and enjoying each other's bodies for a short while is not the same as a relationship. Neither of us is into dating, last I heard.

All it means is that I care. Especially when she lets me take a peek at what's at the other side of the veil. I'm privy to things no one else knows, and it makes me want to learn more. Help in any small way she'll allow. I may have kept myself away from romance, but I have thought about friendship and found families a lot. It's clear a part of me wants her in my inner circle.

Damián opens his mouth to add more, but we're interrupted by club staff. Two people dressed in black stand by the group, one of them looks feminine with long blonde hair in a high ponytail, while the other looks masculine with a pixie cut.

"I apologize for the interruption," the pixie cut person says. "We wanted to let you know that a group of reporters and fans are gathering outside. It's our policy to let you know when that happens."

"As usual," the blonde staff member adds, "we will do our best to aid you in leaving when you're ready to do so. Simply let us know and we will help coordinate your exit."

Saint has both arms over his companions' shoulders. The three of them seem to be in their own little bubble next to us, and yet he's the one to respond to the club staff.

"Thank you, Ryan, Alex." He smiles at them. "As usual, great service."

The two of them nod to us and leave. Everyone goes back to chatting with each other, like this is par for the course.

The stress raising my hackles isn't as strong as it used to be, but it's there. People out in the world don't have interview guidelines, and it's too close to what I watched my dad go through. I've spent years avoiding situations like this and keeping them to a minimum. Now I've cornered myself into having to figure out how to handle the potential interaction with reporters and fans. Everyone else seems ready for it, and like they have no concerns about how to handle it .

I have concerns, and no idea how to handle it.

I've been sipping scotch all night, and I finish the rest of it in one gulp. The people around me are those I hope I will find brotherhood with, but I'm not there yet. Tonight isn't the night to confide in them and reveal how unprepared I am to deal with the public.

Tonight, I reach out to the one person who might help, and with whom I have no problem opening up to these days.

Logan: Evening. You up?

I have time to ask for another glass of whisky before I get a response.

Evie: Hello to you too. I'm doing well, thanks. How are you?

Logan: I said 'evening'. It should count

Evie: Sigh

Logan: Good evening, Miss Moreno. May I request your attention for a moment

Evie: Yes, Your Highness, you may. I thought you were out with the guys?

Logan: there are reporters and fans waiting for us outside. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Evie: Are you asking me for PR advice?

Logan: You can never say I did not do my part.

Evie: I can't… at least not since we shook on it

Logan: Exactly. Something tells me I shouldn't ignore the fans outside, and maybe capitalize on the reporters… but if someone asks something that pisses me off? I'm a cranky asshole at my worst and let's say I'm not at my best tonight

Evie: Okay. Let's strategize. Anyone you can walk out of the club with?

Logan: like one of the guys?

Evie: Uhm… no. I apologize ahead of time for the show of patriarchy and gender essentialism I'm about to make but, from a PR standpoint, a pretty femme is probably going to work best. If you go out of the club with a date, people understand you're in a hurry

I clench my jaw. The screen goes black as I decide my next steps, irritation pulling my brow low.

People have always expected me to be a serial dater, when that's far from the truth. I've never dated seriously but, and when I tell that to anyone, no one seems to believe it.

I'm not likely to change my mind. Dating short term is a performance I will always hate. In the long term it's about letting them see who I really am and risking them changing their mind.

No, thanks. I'll find companionship and friendship with my team— eventually. As they get to know me. I'll find confidence and autonomy in a few trophies and awards. I'll be happy with that.

Without a second thought, I take the device with me and hide in one of the VIP private restrooms. It smells like bleach and chemical air fresheners, and I scrunch up my nose .

She answers my call on the second ring.

"Evie. You're bringing dating up again? I said no."

Her hair is loose today and has some curl to it. It's the closest it's been to how it looked when I met her, and I file the image away for later contemplation.

She gives me an innocent look. "You don't have to date anyone if you don't want to. I said you have to leave the place with someone. Especially if folk get loud— if you look like you're protecting her from the noise and the intrusion, you'll look heroic. Points tally in your favor, et cetera."

I groan. "See what that's doing to my frown?"

I angle the camera so she sees the deep lines in my brow.

She snorts, undeterred. "People are excited for the Strike this season. Everyone wants more of you all because they have hope. That's why they're there, remember that."

"It still means I have to find someone to leave the club with."

"I'm sure it won't be hard."

"It wouldn't be hard. I don't want to, which is different."

"There must be someone there you find alluring? Even if it's only to leave the club together and take her to her place. Nightcap with her optional."

I ignore the suggestion. Evie looks pretty, in that unstudied way she had when we met, or on our first video call.

That's much more alluring to me at the moment. Especially since it means I wouldn't have to convince someone I'll take them home but I'm not interested in a nightcap.

My brow relaxes. "I have a better idea. You should be the one."

"The one… what?"

I let my lips slant into a micro smile. "Come to the club. Have a drink with me— my treat. We'll leave together."

Her eyes narrow. "No."

"You can scold me in person."

"I'm in my PJs. "

She doesn't show me, though now I'm curious.

I don't ask. "Come in your PJs."

"You're ridiculous."

"It's the perfect plan."

"It's not."

"Why not? Tell me when you arrive."

"Logan—"

"I can send a car for you. We have a drink together, you chat with everyone or teach me a lesson on something. Whatever makes you happiest. Then we go out, I protect you with my large, manly size, and get those extra points you say we need. It's a win-win."

Reasons and excuses cloud her eyes. I retaliate before they click into place.

"Remember that swim ad? I said no, but I'll say yes if you come. We're helping each other out in the long term. That's all that's happening here."

She purses her lips. Indecision mars her brow— it's the closest she's ever been to saying yes, and I intend to find a way to persuade her.

"Text me your address," I add. "I'll text back as soon as I have the ETA. See you soon."

She gives me a pained expression, like I'm inconveniencing her but can't quite say no at the moment.

"Thank you, Evie."

I mean it.

She gives me a single, annoyed nod, and I hang up before she can change her mind.