Chapter 19

Evie

It's the middle of November. Eleven weeks into the season, the Strike has won seven games out of the nine we've played. The mood at TD is incredible, smiles everywhere— including Selena, on the rare occasion that we cross paths these days. Once she declared she liked what Logan and I were doing, she moved to more urgent matters. The freedom is reassuring.

Between that and the conversation Logan and I had in the car many days ago, I let him get me into the next home game. Some of the guys pay for a box together, and Logan texts to tell me Nat will be waiting for me.

I meet her there and she gives me a hug. It's strange as I didn't expect it, but I smile through it. The guys and I are friendly enough, but I rarely spend social time with them or their people. Somehow, whatever time I've spent with them has been enough for Nat to welcome me with open arms— literally.

The thought blows wind to the butterflies in my stomach, and they dance around as she and I go to the seats by the window. Pen is there, and we say hi as well.

"I didn't know you'd be here!" I say, before asking a server for a fruity drink .

"Yeah." She pushes her lips to the side. "Leon broke up with his girlfriend and he wanted company today."

She wears Bear's jersey, just like Nat wears Damián's.

I wear my navy, oversized shirt dress with a light blue, shiny belt at the waist. It's the team's colors, but I don't wear a jersey.

"I didn't know he was dating anyone." Nat sits at my other side.

"He likes to keep those things private." Pen sips from her drink. "So I probably shouldn't say more."

"Are you dating anyone, Evie?" Nat's eyes shine with mischief.

"Me?" I snort. "No. I don't date."

"You're here for Logan, aren't you?" Pen asks.

"Because of work," I say. "As a friend."

I roll the words on my tongue, testing them for fit. In the car we said we might come out of all of this with friendship, but I don't think we're friends. Just like I'm not friends with Nat or Pen either.

There are degrees of friendship, and all of these people are in that weird space that it's more than acquaintances but not someone I would tell my secrets to.

Do I want more with any of them? Maybe. But it's the only word I can use to describe what I have with all of them, and I have to be okay using it.

The server brings my drink. It's raspberry and mint, and sweet on my tongue.

"Right, you explained at the club," Nat says.

I'm not sure she believes me and I don't blame her. With the online chatter about us and the time we spend together, it's easy to assume there's more. At least it can't affect me at work. As long as we're clear that we're not together, no one at the organization will demand the HR meeting from us. There's no power imbalance between us, and that will protect us.

We turn to the field as the pregame show begins. Highlights from past games play on the massive main screen of the stadium, and the cheerleaders find their place on the turf. They line up outside the tunnel through which the players will come in, past the smoke machines. Music and fireworks welcome them into the field, one by one. Fans cheer.

Everyone applauds in the suite, and Nat and Pen are especially loud when their players come out. I keep my excitement even, but I track Logan when it's his turn. He runs into the field through smoke screens and cheerleaders shaking pom-poms, head down as he charges forward.

He doesn't dance like Saint or Dom. There is no fake superhero pose like Damián, or a bear walk out of the tunnel that turns into a power run like Leon. All Logan does is wave at the crowd when he goes to stand with the rest of the team.

I smirk. He really hates the show around the game, and it strikes me that I don't know why. I don't even know whether he likes football, or if he plays it only because he's good.

We stand by the windows and watch the start of the game. The Strike is on offense, and Logan stands in his position. The first play goes fast, and they gain several yards. When the next play turns into a touchdown, with Saint shaking his ass to music only he can hear, the box explodes to cheers.

Players run to celebrate with the wide receiver, but my eyes go to the quarterback again. He does a single power pose, the kind a body builder might do with both arms at the front.

"They look so good when they're happy," I say.

"Personally, I love the uniforms," Nat says.

Damián comes into the field to try for the point after touchdown.

"They are all fine, aren't they?" Pen asks.

Logan runs to the bench, the tight pants and shirt showing off his form.

Damián's attempt is good, and the three of us sit and take sips from our drinks.

Pen sighs. "I have to admit, I love the aesthetic of football."

"Not the sport?" Nat winks. "Just how it looks?"

Pen smiles. "I don't care who makes it into the playoffs or whatever. But I like to watch the game. "

We laugh.

"Yeah, I get it," I say. "I was never into it, but I've come to appreciate the aesthetic, too."

"Are we just using euphemisms here? Are we saying we just like to watch them play?"

"I mean the whole aesthetic," I say, though my eyes are trained on Logan. "The plays, the bursts of excitement, the screams of the fans."

"Same, but I also like to watch them play." Pen shrugs.

Nat sighs. "And to think I used to tell myself thinking Damián is hot didn't mean anything."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"We've been friends for years. I always knew he's sexy, but I liked to pretend it was only an objective statement."

The Strike intercepts the ball and we jump up to the window again. Logan runs onto the field now, shoulder checking players in celebration. They tap each other's helmets for good measure.

It makes me smile. They look like a close team. It's good because it adds to the story we're building for all the fans, but it also seems real. I don't know for sure but, whatever my subconscious has picked up when I'm with Logan, it tells me this is good for everyone, and what he wants, too.

I'm happy that it could be making him happy.

Fuck. That seems like I care about him, and maybe I'm closer to being his friend than I thought.

We sit again as the team continues their play. Nat asks for a second drink, but I leave mine on the window ledge.

I bite the inside of my lip. I've been careful for years about who I make friends with. I'm still not sure if I'd be able to say 'enough, I can't give anymore', or whether I would drown in a whirlpool of wanting to make things better for everyone. Even now, with two people next to me I'm getting to know better, I know I have to pay attention. And with Logan, we're in quicksand, playing as if this thing between us could lead to friendship.

From my current angle I can see the screen much better than the turf. Logan's famous frown shines bright on the cinema-sized display.

It's been years since I first saw him in a bar, brows furrowed at everyone. At the time my body responded with greed for him. A hum low in my belly. Today…

Today I still do.

I grab my drink and gulp half of it down.

It hasn't been that long since Nat's statement, and I jump right into the conversation as if it's not a big deal.

"Now that you're with Damián, did you change your mind?"

"What's that?" Nat asks, a confused look on her face.

"You used to think you could find your friend attractive and still be friends. Did you change your mind now that you're together?"

"Oh. Well." She receives her drink and sips from it. "I can't speak for everyone else, but I know I was wrong. Very wrong."

"I think it's possible," Pen interjects. "Bear is a catch. He's handsome and gives the best hugs, but I don't want to date him. It wouldn't work."

"How do you know?"

"Oh. We tried. A long time ago."

Nat grins. "That's a story I want to hear!"

Pen shakes her head. "There's nothing to it, really."

They chat with each other, but I don't pay attention. Pen's words force me to think about that time years ago when Logan and I tested the chemistry between us. That time with him is what I compare every one-night-stand to. Even if Logan doesn't remember, his words in the car recently suggest he may be attracted to me this time around, too.

If I'm already nervous about all these friendships, especially the possibility of being Logan's friend at the end of this… the attraction only makes it worse.

The Strike's defense collapses in the second half, and we lose the game.

Everyone in the suite is somber. Damián is one of the first players to come to the suite. Nat immediately hugs him tight and holds on. They embrace for several minutes, like they're alone in the box. It feels like I'm intruding in something private, and I step to the side and stand by the wall.

Leon comes in and goes straight for Penélope. She makes a joke I can't hear, he looks pained but about to laugh, and pulls her close for a hug as well.

I shift from foot to foot and wait for Logan. Saint comes in with Dom. The latter goes to meet with a redhead that I'm pretty sure is the same person he was with at the club that night, but Saint turns to me.

"Hey," I say. "How are you doing?"

Of all of the guys in the friend group, Saint is the one I'm closest to. We don't really spend time together outside of team situations, but we talk about things that are not game-related. Sometimes. Maybe that's why he ignores his guest and comes to me instead.

He lifts a shoulder. "It always sucks. Every single time."

A beautiful blonde hovers nearby. She's not one of the two people Saint went home with after the club, but I've never judged anyone for their dating habits.

"Go," I whisper to him. "They're waiting for you."

He sighs but doesn't walk away yet. He steps closer to me.

"I'm frustrated." His voice is low, only for me. "I'm preparing myself for the hell that reviewing tape with the coaches is going to be tomorrow. Maybe a bit sad, too, if I'm honest."

"Saint— I—"

He shakes his head to stop me. "It's fine, but Logan hasn't said a word since the end of the third quarter. He always looks grumpy, but I'm starting to think half the time he's just thinking hard about things. Today I think he's just plain upset."

"I see. And maybe you think that, since I'm here… "

"You're his guest. Even if you're not wearing his jersey, it means something, you know?"

I purse my lips to the side. "Your guest isn't wearing a jersey."

"Don't worry about me." His dimples make an appearance. "I'll be well taken care of."

I make a disgusted face and he laughs.

A large shadow blocks the light coming through the suite's door, and we both turn to find Logan standing there.

Saint waves at both of us and goes to his guest, freeing a clear path between Logan and me.

At first, he does nothing but stand there, serious eyes on me. Even if Saint hadn't told me of his low mood, I would have seen it right away. His shoulders are low, heavy with his disappointment. His hair is still wet, and as he gets closer with slow steps, I get to see that fresh look on his skin, the kind that comes from a recent shower.

I take a deep breath, and my lungs fill with the smell of his shampoo. He takes an extra step and stands close. For a moment I wonder if he's going to ask me for a hug, just like Damián with Nat, or Leon with Pen.

He doesn't. "I thought you might be gone already."

"It didn't cross my mind."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry. I don't have a cupcake today."

"But you're trying to lift my spirits?"

I step closer. "Don't tell anyone I said this."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I may not be an expert at football strategy, but something tells me that it's not the quarterback's fault if the defense doesn’t play well."

He doesn't smile, but there's something about how he presses his lips together that tells me he could.

I grin.

"You don't have to feed my ego," he says. "I'm supposed to be the glue. As the offense, we didn’t sustain long enough drives to let the defense rest properly."

"Okay, then let me try a different angle. I have an idea. Tell everyone you won a bet and that's why I'm here. If you win the Hypercubed, then the king can get his crown in the off season."

His face relaxes further, but he doesn't smile. "Can't. I would have had to make that bet earlier in the week, or it looks too suspicious."

"Collusion!" I exclaim.

A couple of people stare our way, but his eyes on me don't waiver.

I put a hand on his chest and go to the ball of my feet.

I speak to his ear. "Bet you'll get me to wear your jersey next time I come to watch a game. I will let you convince me, Your Highness."

I'm halfway through my proposal when he puts a hand on my waist. His fingertips dig into me, like he's clinging to my body. His breathing plays with the tiny hairs of my neck.

I want to push you around , he said that first night.

I had a few bruises on my hips, and a hickey on the back of my thigh the next day.

A shiver runs down my spine.

He speaks to my ear, too. "What's this? A proposition, Miss Moreno? How many of those have you got?"

I pull back. I need to look into his eyes. He gazes at me with humor, but there's nothing else that suggests his memory came back, and he remembers I propositioned him that night in the bar.

He's just teasing me for the betting collusion idea. I read between the lines because I was already thinking of that night.

I'm always thinking about that night, it seems.

"I'm trying to make you smile," I say.

"You don't have to." He runs two fingers down my face again, though there's no chalk to leave marks this time. "Remember I don't really do that. "

"I'll break you, Logan."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Uhm, sorry to interrupt." Pen shows next to us. "We're leaving, and I don't know if either of you cares, but I thought you might want to know."

Logan stays right where he was, but I feel shy about the game he and I were playing. I take a step back, and his hand falls.

"Yes, Pen?" I ask.

"Apparently the broadcast of the game showed Evie, Nat, and I here at the box. Comments online are popping up, calling us the Wives And Girlfriends. I've gotten more texts than Nat about it, since she's actually with Damián—"

"We're just friends," Logan and I say at the same time.

"And I'm friends with Bear, yet here we are."

I check my phone quickly.

Ren: how did it take me so long to put this together? You're running Logan King's account. You're the one from that club video with him. And now you're in the friends and family box?

Pri: are you part of the WAGs?!

Ren: ARE YOU DATING LOGAN KING????

I press my lips together and shoot off a quick response.

Evie: It's all work!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I put away my phone.

"You could have used a few more exclamation points, Evie."

"Logan! Don't read my texts over my shoulder!"

But he chuckles, and it fixes the whole night.