Page 24

Chapter 24

Evie

After rinsing off, I change into fresh pajamas in my bedroom, to find Logan brought the comforter from the living room and made my bed. Only a couple of months earlier, I would have been embarrassed by it. Now that he sought me out when I disappeared— with his version of gentleness and dependability— I managed to simply take a deep breath and go with it.

I find my favorite oversized sweater and put it on. It falls to my thighs, practically covering my soft cotton shorts. My hair is still wet, but I comb it and let it air dry. With moisturizer all over my skin, I feel like a new person.

The bed didn't prepare me to discover Logan tidied my kitchen and living room, too. My stomach churns but, when I smell the food he got us for dinner, I tell myself it's due to how ravenous I am.

"I hope you like shawarmas." He opens a cupboard and takes out a couple of plates. "I found a place with great reviews nearby."

"That looks like Moonbake Shawarma. You're going to love it."

I don't have a dining table. We sit on my sofa. He smells the food before giving it a big bite— and moaning.

The sound reverberates in my bones. I stuff my mouth with food, so I don't say anything I might regret.

"Wow," he said after his second bite. "You were not exaggerating."

"It's the pickled veggies and that garlic sauce."

"It's all of it. This is delicious."

His frown is there, but something about his eyes show how much he's enjoying the meal. I'm not used to having company, and he's tall and muscly enough to occupy plenty of space. It does something to the very air of my apartment, and the contrast gets me talking before I know what I'm doing.

"You got bigger after college, didn't you?" I ask.

He glances at me. "Some. Mostly lean mass, a bit of height."

"It was my first impression, when I saw you at Selena's office that first time."

"Mine was shock." He swallowed another bite. "I think I knew just from hearing your voice, but when you turned to look at me—"

His eyes are cast to the floor as he reviews his memory of the moment.

I lick my lip. "I guess you didn't have time to prepare like I did."

He shakes his head. "But I recognized you right away."

"I can take that as a compliment, I think." I dab my lips with a paper napkin. "I was convinced there was no way you would remember me."

"Why not?" He raises an eyebrow at me and takes another bite.

If I catch him stealing glances at my thighs, I don't say anything.

"You're famous, Logan. I may not have known who you were when we met at the bar, but that changed just a few months later. Even when your old coach kept you on the bench for nine out of ten games, the camera managed to land on you regardless. Your life is too big to get caught in a random one-night-stand years ago."

You must have had many other partners since. That night was special to me, but I know it doesn't mean it was special to you.

I don't say it in as many words, but he's back to being able to read my mind .

"You left me with a million questions, Evie. I tried to get you to stay the night— you left while I couldn't ask for more. But I thought we had a good time. We had chemistry. We fit. We could have done it all over again, next time I came around town."

"I was only looking for one night. Nothing more. One time is fun. More is the start of something. You know I don't do that."

He squints in the way that tells me he's putting puzzle pieces together. "We had sex more than once that night. Does that mean we had something?"

"It's… that rule doesn't apply to that night. That's something I decided when you and I— I decided on it afterwards. One and done."

He cocks his head. "Did I leave an impression?"

I open my mouth to reply with banter, but it doesn't come out with the same ease as usual. The truth is he did, but I can't come clean with it.

"It doesn't matter." I keep my voice even. "It will lead nowhere, so maybe we shouldn't go down memory lane."

Maybe friendship is the answer, never mind what my skin wants.

"Why do you always insist on reminding me we won't date?" He frowns. "I know it's not in the cards. Neither of us is looking for a long-term relationship."

"Exactly. So no dating, no sex, no reason to—"

"That's where we differ. I agree with no dating but… why does it have to mean no sex?"

My diaphragm stalls. My whole system hiccups to a stop. He's serious, and the question pulls down his brows into one of his killer frowns.

He means it. He's been wondering the same kind of thing I have been. He's been offering friendship, and he's been thinking about sex, too.

It's too dangerous to contemplate for long, or with his keen eyes on me.

"Logan— we can't have sex and keep getting closer. There's too much between us now. It would change everything. "

"You really, really don't want anything that gets you close to someone, huh?" He puts what's left of his food between us, wrapped in the waxed paper and bag in which it came.

"Call it commitment issues."

"No, I don't think that's it." He leans closer to me and peers straight into my soul. "I don't think you have an issue with commitment. It's not about choosing a single person and worrying about greener pastures."

He frowns, and I know something clicked before he says it.

A corner of his lip lifts. His eyes clear. "Everything you shared earlier— it makes sense, really. You don't let people close in case it will land you caring for someone else, when you don't know how to ask for it back."

Fuck.

I don't say anything. I'm in shock. Not even my food registers anymore. I still hold it in my hands, but my arms lay on my lap lifeless.

He continues as if he's not reading me like a book. "And because of that, you keep people at a distance. That's why you don't date."

One, two, three seconds later, his face clears. Too much glee fills his features.

"Evie, I think I finally understand you."

"This is unfair." With my words, I manage to gather enough presence of mind to put my food in its bag, and on the empty space next to me on the sofa. My brows furrow. "You waltz into my life and read between the lines of who I am— of who I show to the world— until I can't hide anymore. But it's unbalanced! I don't know you the same way. I was supposed to be helping you open up!"

It doesn't change his look of success. "That's fair. Moving forward, you can ask whatever you want. I'll answer."

"Oh, yeah? Then tell me more about your dad. Why do you hate the media? Why did your old coach not play you? Do you even like football?"

That takes away his humor. "It took me five months to get here with you. Cool your engines and give me a sec, okay?"

"Answer at least one question. Give me at least one. "

Show me that if I choose a connection with you it won't be a mistake, because we'll fit this way, too.

His eyes narrow as he thinks it through. "I do love football. It's ironic, really, because I'm good enough at it that it lets me prove I can be exceptional at something— something that will make people pay attention. See me. But because it's what my dad did, people search for him in what I do all the fucking time anyway. Even if he's not the one training for me, or with the discipline to hone my skills like I did. He was great at this, but even if we're both quarterbacks, our styles are different. Not that anyone seems to care. So enjoying football— the physical demands that keep me in my body, the quick thinking, the way the world disappears— it helps me keep doing it, but it traps me in a career where I'm never free of him."

His sincerity rings in the spaces between the sentences. My body softens as I let all that in. If I choose friendship, we will fit, too.

I sigh. "And it's the media and the fans, the ones searching for him in everything you do. I get it now."

He doesn't smile, but a spark lights up behind his eyes. "Maybe you get me, too."

And yet I want his hands on me again. Both realities coexist inside, but the pieces don't connect seamlessly. My body responds like we might indulge and try to have it all for a little while, even if I know I need to choose.