Page 18
Story: The Game (Seattle Strike)
Chapter 18
Logan
I arrange for the restaurant to set me up in a private spot. Turns out they have a small section in the back they reserve for special occasions, and it's perfect for Evie and me. If privacy might make Evie feel better about having dinner with me, then privacy she'll have.
She shows up at the restaurant twenty minutes later. She asked to be picked up from work— maybe that's why she wears clothes I've seen before. Her pencil skirt is blue-green and tight, and it shows off the round curves of her hips and thick thighs. The top is a cream blouse in a material with a subtle sheen, that drapes around her breasts. She looks just as good as she did in her black dress at the club.
"Hi, Evie," I say, because she tends to complain when I don't greet her properly. "What would you like to drink tonight?"
Our server joins us seamlessly, standing at our side and introducing himself. Evie gets white wine, and we're told the first course will arrive shortly.
She sighs. "Okay. I'm ready for our chat."
"Are you?"
"Of course. You said you wouldn't sleep well tonight if we didn't talk. "
"Thank you for caring about the quality of my sleep."
"I happen to know sleep is very important."
"Your sense of responsibility over my wellbeing is endearing."
Humor builds on her face, but she doesn't crack. My drink tastes better now, too, for some reason.
"It is my responsibility as front office staff," she says.
"I like to think I've charmed you with my personality."
"That's exactly the kind of thing that could make people believe we are in fact together."
The restaurant has a soft, golden light to warm up the old Hollywood decor in gold, black, and white. It shines on her, making her skin and eyes glow.
I take it as confirmation she enjoys our word sparring, too.
She looks beautiful.
I take another sip from my Old Fashioned. "You and I know we're only having fun. I don't care so much about what they believe, but the things they're saying about you."
"I don't care about what they're saying about me in the comments. It's all engagement, and their curiosity has people talking about you. It was my goal to start with."
"But?"
"If you're going to keep trying to get me to join you out in the wild, and it keeps pushing fans to believe we're dating, I need to know you will tell everyone else the truth."
"What do you want me to tell people?"
The first course arrives. It's a seafood trio in different color combinations— green, yellow, and purple. Evie waits until the servers leave and we've had our first bite to answer.
She chases the food with her wine. "You should tell everyone that we work together. "
Evie's hair is in a loose bun at her nape. It lets me see the curve of her neck, and how her throat bobbles as she eats another bite.
I gulp and fill my mouth with the rest of my plate. The taste brings me back to the ocean, and an evening watching the sun set. Like Evie and I are at the beach and having dinner together after a long day of doing nothing.
That may be why the idea of only being linked by our occupation and responsibilities doesn't feel like enough. It's not the right description.
I test a different label. "Do you think we're friends?"
She works through her last bite as she thinks. A wrinkle appears between her shapely eyebrows and she gazes down at her plate.
"I don't know," she finally replies. "Maybe. But it would be the right thing to tell people— that we're colleagues. That we're friendly now after months working together. Fans want to know about me, and it will help your engagement in socials if we explain it this way."
"I can tell people that."
We work together. We might become friends. That's plenty, and true enough.
"This is how we control the narrative," she adds. "Especially when some of them decide we're lying."
"Would that bother you?"
Servers take away our empty plates, and we both kill time making a dent in our drinks.
She lifts a single shoulder. "As long as people at work believe us, I'm fine with it."
"Fine with it."
All I can do is echo her words. I'm supposed to poke and have fun, but that sounds like, to her, us together is something to be dismissed.
Us together isn't to be dismissed. It's realistic, it's proven physically, but it's not something either of us is planning for. Very different issues.
She nods. "If I go out with you and we both know why, and we tell everyone the truth, then no one will doubt I took my priority project seriously. "
I frown. The main course arrives. It gives me time to push away my irritation, that she's thinking about her promotion while I'm thinking of dating and the reasons why I won't do anything about it.
I'm quickly forgetting. Getting to know her these few months is to blame, but I can't let it change my mind about relationships.
I shake my head and hope the motion will kick my brain into action. "I do like you more than I liked your old boss."
She gives me a close-mouthed smile, tasting the food I haven't bothered to look at.
"Even though I've pushed you more than he ever did?" she asks.
"I like it when you do."
I purse my lips. It feels strange to admit this, but I want her to react and match me, and I don't care to lie.
"We agreed to it," I add. "You can push, and I'll be fair. Same the other way around."
"That's the game we'll play. We'll spend time together and then explain we're not involved."
"You should come to a game, to drive the point further. I'll get you a spot in the suite."
"As a friend."
"Of course. When you wear my jersey, we'll remind everyone it's all platonic."
"I'm not wearing your jersey, Logan."
She for sure isn't wearing anyone else's.
"We'll see," I concede. For now.
I finally try my food, to find buttery fish, pasta, and a delicious garlic and herb sauce. We eat in silence for a while, and finish our meal with me teasing her for the videos she's produced.
She accepts dessert, and I like that she's open to spending the extra time with me tonight. At the club, I didn't get to enjoy her company as much .
Her relaxation disappears when we get ready to leave. She goes quiet, and doesn't respond to my conversation with the same ease anymore, or when we get up to leave.
"Shouldn't we wait for the bill?" She eventually asks.
I shake my head. "It's taken care of."
A weight falls on her shoulders. I try to meet her eyes, but she looks away, so I guide her out with a hand behind her back.
I break the tension as soon as we're in the back of the car, on the way to her place.
"What happened? You went quiet," I say.
"You're always quiet, unless it's with me."
"Let's not ponder on that, when it only distracts from my question."
"You're not going to let me change the subject, will you?" She stares forward, her eyes lost on the dark glass divider in front of us.
"I will if you tell me to stop." I lick my bottom lip. "But you've opened up to me before, so my chances are good."
I've spent enough time with her that I'm learning to read her. I want her thoughts enough that I'm glad for it. But even if I'm willing to push, I don't want her to be uncomfortable.
I let her make up her mind, and wait to see what it will be— assertiveness or another piece of the puzzle.
She sighs. "I didn't get a chance to look up the restaurant before I joined you. I didn't realize it's the type of place where they take your credit card information when they take the reservation."
My brows pull down, but I don't say anything yet. She may offer more if I keep quiet.
She stares at her lap. "I was going to ask for the receipt so I could expense my part."
I scoff before I can stop it. "I wouldn't have let you do that. "
She stares at me, a hard line tilting her lips. "I would have insisted. It's… I wouldn't… I can't accept you paying for me. It's too close to dating."
"Didn't we just agree that fans will think we're dating and we're good with that?"
"It's not about what random people think. It's about you and I. I don't date."
I hate that she keeps finding ways to point out she doesn't see that for us.
We could if we wanted to and it wouldn't go against our plans. Evie and I fit, but many reasons exist to push away the notion for myself. On one hand, the process of trying to turn dates into a relationship has always seemed demoralizing to me. It requires trust that I've never been able to give freely, and a willingness to be vulnerable that I’ve never been able to offer. On the other hand, my focus can't be on making something like that work, when a bad day could ruin the whole season for me and my team.
Evie has her reasons, too. That's fine. All I want is to know what those are. But I've never liked pretense. There is attraction between us. We have fun together. We have a past— an incredible night together. Plenty of people start with less. If it weren't for our reasons not to, trying something would make sense. I want her to see it too.
"I'm not saying we should." I grind my teeth. "I don't date either, but accepting that and feigning disinterest are not the same."
Her eyes narrow. "There's no point in talking about interest , if nothing will ever happen."
"And what's the point in telling me you don't want me to pay, when that won't stop me?"
"You're so persistent, King." She crosses her arms. "So fucking stubborn!"
"I'm logical. I have the money, I invited you, I don't care if it feels like dating. We know we're not dating."
"I care. I don't like to depend on people for anything."
"And letting me pay is depending? Or is it dating me that you have a problem with? "
She shakes her head and turns away to look through the window. "What is it about how you talk to me, that gets me admitting things I never tell anyone?"
"I'm told I'm persistent. Fucking stubborn."
She scoffs. Her shoulders turn inwards, like she's feeling exposed.
I'll get a vulnerability hangover , she told me once.
Our arguing pumped energy into my blood, heating me up. I go cold now, adrenaline evaporating all at once.
My stomach drops. I don't like that I pushed so much she's feeling threatened.
I chew on the inside of my lip for a second, two. There's a lever somewhere inside of me. It helps me contain my private world. A control panel sits next to it, measuring in painstaking detail how much I let anyone know of who I am. They take what I learn from people, and allow small pieces out if they show me constancy.
It finally clicks— Evie is like that, too, but she has a harder time with it.
My chest softens. Leveling the field is only fair.
"I first went to therapy in college." My voice comes serene. Open, for once. "It was mandatory, but it helped. My therapist back then, she told me I'm like a hunting dog. I get a scent and I pursue until I get my prize."
"Funny, for someone with hyperosmia."
She still doesn't look at me.
I snort. "I guess, but that's not why I'm telling you the story."
I don't add anything, hoping the silence will grab her and get her to gaze at me again. It does, and she turns to me with suspicion in her eyes.
"I always want the truth," I say. "As much of it as I can. It helps me find my place with people, when I live in a world that forgot I'm more than my father's son, the moment I first stepped onto a football field."
Her eyes clear. Her face softens.
The space between us opens. It's lighter, now that I shared .
A ghost of a smile curls my lips. "I'm sorry that I push so hard that I forget to take a step back sometimes. You match me so well when we talk that I make the mistake of assuming all you want is the truth, too."
"I suppose it's something like that for me as well. It's that when we get into it, your direct questions translate as honesty to me. That honesty makes me want to meet you there and give it right back. But my truth is that if it makes me feel you're dependable, it doesn't mean I can rely on you."
"You said earlier that we may be friends one day. Maybe then you'll find you can rely on me, Evie."
"I still don't want to let you pay."
I smirk. "What is it that you said to me that day? Hate it, but do it anyway."
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18 (Reading here)
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40