Page 26

Chapter 26

Evie

I walk into the events hall with my heart beating fast. A hundred different thoughts run through my head. It's the first time I join people from the organization for a big, social event like this, and I don't trust myself with any of it. Things are shifting, everywhere, and I may still give too much and get too little, and not realize it until it's too late. I may still stretch myself thin, fighting in the quicksand.

And Logan— I need to find the limits I will hold on to with him, too.

The large room is packed with people. Everyone mingles and enjoys cocktail hour in their fancy costumes. Drinks in hand, they sprawl through the open section at the front of the hall, and among the dining tables scattered at the wings. At the center of the room, a large indoor water feature runs softly like a creek. It holds a medium-sized tree that has been shaped to look old, with moss on natural rocks and lighting effects that make it seem like it's the remnants of an ancient, magical forest. The rest of the hall is decorated along the same lines, with shimmering silver tones and blue lighting everywhere— the echoes of the Strike's uniform— with vines up the walls and long drapes falling between them .

We have stepped into a fantastical land of possibility.

"Evie?" Dom grins at me, an arm around a beautiful, white-presenting brunette.

I grin back. "Hey, Dom!"

He gives me a quick hug and he introduces me to Mabel, his date for the night.

"Are you here alone?" he asks me.

I blink. Logan and I will spend time together tonight. He got me this beautiful dress as part of convincing me to attend, and we have unfinished business. But I don't know if that means he's my date to the gala.

"Come with us, then." Dom doesn't wait for me to make up my mind, and makes a calling gesture with his head. "Everyone will be happy to see you."

I follow him through the crowd, smiling and waving at other players and admin I usually only see at the Thunderdome. Dom takes me to a spot near the fountain, where the usual suspects gather.

"What a wonderful surprise!" Saint kisses my cheek. A diamond earring blings on his earlobe. "It's lovely to see you here."

"You look beautiful." Bear's deep bass voice is as friendly as usual.

Nat and Damián give me quick hugs.

"That is a gorgeous dress." Nat smiles at me.

She wears a floor-length dark green piece, which makes her lavender hair stand out. I gaze down at my gown, and slide a hand down the soft, champagne-colored material. It's ruched on top in an intricate pattern, which spirals into a soft knot on top of my heart. A magical, hidden structure allows me to wear it with no bra. Two cap sleeves hug my shoulders, delicately embellished with jewels. The skirt falls to the floor, hiding a pair of stilettos that are so gorgeous I salivate at the mere thought of them.

"And aren't these shoes incredible?" I ask, lifting the soft fabric to show her my new prized possession.

"Wow. Those are incredible," she says.

"You look incredible yourself, of course," I add .

"I need to know." Saint gives me a dimpled grin. "What do we owe this miracle to? Or should I say, to whom?"

Neither he or Bear seem to have dates with them tonight.

"Selena, actually." I wear my hair up in a loose updo, and I move wayward tendril out of my eyes. "She wanted me here for the project with Logan."

"Since we're talking about our quarterback…" Bear gazes at me with a playful gleam to his eyes. "Did you know he recently placed a bet on the Hypercubed that he'll get you to wear his jersey?"

"Did he, now?" I shrug. "We'll see about that."

I know I told him to do it, but depending on what ends up happening between us, it might be a bad idea all over again.

"You've worn his hoodie before." Dom joins the game Saint and Bear are playing. "His jersey wouldn't be much of a stretch."

I maintain my nonchalant air, even if nerves flutter inside.

"That was out of necessity," I argue. "It was raining."

"I personally think it should still count." Logan's voice reaches me from my side. "It has never happened before, has it? You've never worn anyone else's name, despite working for the Strike for years."

His hand lands on my lower back.

I stare up at him. His frown isn't more than a notch on his brow, but his eyes are intense— heated on me. Little flames spark to life on my skin. My lips part. The air has thinned, now that he's around.

He looks unbelievable, with his imposing height and those supernatural, dark gray eyes that fit the theme for the night so well. His entire outfit is monochromatic, in shades of a hard-to-define color, somewhere between a dark petroleum blue and black. Everything is made of matte fabrics, except for the lapels of the jacket and his tie, which shine in a silky material. My eyes travel from the one button at his solar plexus up and it hits me— his tux is the color of his black hair in the sun.

"Hi." The shy word escapes me .

We lock eyes again, and I'm embarrassed to realize I'm a little breathless.

"Hello, Evie." His voice is deep. He takes a small step back and gazes down my body. "You look stunning."

"Thank you." I gulp. "The dress has something to do with it."

"It's you," he says.

I study his look like it's not seared in my mind already. Butterflies invade my belly all over again.

He steps right next to me, and I face him.

He leans close to me and speaks to my ear. "The way you're looking at me says you like me in this tux."

I open my mouth to respond, but stop myself just in time. The words forming on my tongue cannot be allowed, especially not here.

I would like you out of it, too.

I'm barely aware we're surrounded by people, but the thread of consciousness that keeps the fact on my mind saves me from saying more than I should. I blink several times instead.

"Cheers, everybody." Saint draws our attention by holding a cocktail glass up.

It steals me from the moment, bursting the bubble in which only Logan and I seemed to exist. Two servers stand by the group, offering drinks to everyone.

I had not noticed. Now everyone holds a drink, except Logan and I.

We each take a glass of our own and join Saint, who stares at us with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"To a great season," Saint says. "And for all the reasons we have to be here together, tonight."

My instinct is to drown the glass, and hope it puts the butterflies to sleep. I force myself to only take a sip of my drink as a gesture, but I cross my fingers I'll keep the winged insects in a cage anyway.

The group sits at a table and eats through the meal, while speeches go on at the stage. A few of the coaches, the GM, and others take to the dais to talk about the team and the progress this season. Attendees cheer and applaud at the right spots, and the mood is generally positive. Everyone at our table is mostly quiet while this goes on.

Even though the same can be said about Logan and I, the way we gaze at each other suggests we're not really paying attention.

Sometimes I catch him looking. Sometimes he catches me.

Sometimes, our eyes lock and we gaze at each other for several seconds, like we can communicate telepathically.

If he's ever been truly able to read my thoughts, this is a time when I equally want him to, and I'm scared of what he would do if he knew what's going on inside my head. The way my skin tingles when his eyes stay on me for too long. How I'm winded, because his solid presence next to me has my chest working too fast, too shallow. The fact that the heat pumping in my veins has me wanting to tear this gorgeous dress off my skin or, better yet, how I want him to do the honors and free me from this gown— with his teeth.

I take a big gulp of my white wine as Selena takes to the stage. She thanks the people who introduced her, as well as the previous speakers. It takes some time, but eventually I manage to pull my eyes from the quarterback and cast them toward the dais.

Selena's dark brown skin glows in the lights. Her charcoal embroidered dress must have jewels attached to the fabric, because it twinkles as much as her eyes.

"And what a first season for this new era," she says. "I am so proud of everyone working for the Strike— no matter the level, no matter the department. Everyone is part of the team, and I thank you all for your hard work."

Selena is within Logan's sightline, but he doesn't pay attention to her. He licks his lips, while his eyes remain on me.

I can feel my own heartbeat .

"Speaking of the team— what a group we have this year," Selena continues. "The consistency in the plays, the cohesion. Every time Coach Clark and our General Manager, Mister Williamson, and I meet— oh, how proud we are of the push we've made this year to bring the Strike out of the shadows. To bring our new quarterback to our midst, Mister Logan King."

People applaud around us, but the quarterback doesn't react. He continues to gaze at me, his frown wrinkling his forehead.

It's the intensity of a few months ago. He studies me closely and tracks every one of my movements, like he's an apex predator and I'm his prey.

Shivers run down my spine.

"They're talking about you, Logan," I whisper.

He licks his lips and watches me for a second longer, before tearing his eyes away and looking toward the stage.

Selena grins at him. "We all know his reputation as a… shall we say, solemn player. But his work is sharp and with his drive this season, the new king of football is helping us reach every single marker we had… and more. The playoffs are just around the corner!"

One of his ghost smiles appears on his lips. I know what this one means. This is Logan, pleased. This is one of the moments he came to the Strike for.

I grin. He glances at me.

The power in his stormy eyes could bring me to my knees.