Page 17

CHAPTER 17

ROSE

S oju is more powerful than I thought. What I just said doesn’t click until I watch Logan’s mouth drop open and out pours all the water he had just drank.

I’m the one who starts choking.

Meanwhile, he calmly looks down at the massive water splotch down his purple and yellow Orlando Wild shirt, as well as his pants. Dude just gave himself a shower from the shock.

In contrast, I’m about to hack up a lung. He slides his water glass my way and I take it, chugging until my throat opens up and I can kind of breathe again.

“I d-didn’t—it?—”

“Breathe first,” he mutters, now also sliding a stack of napkins toward me.

It takes a handful to clean my face, and another handful to blot out the sweat now trickling from the sheer embarrassment. I clear my throat several times and glue my attention to the wall.

“I don’t mean for real. I don’t actually have any interest in you,” I begin to explain.

“Thanks, that’s not confusing at all.” Logan snorts.

I cave and turn back to meet his eyes. There’s more amusement there than offense, and I get it. How would someone like me hurt his self esteem in any way? He’s dated gorgeous professional models, for goodness’s sake. Women throw themselves at him on a regular basis.

“All right, I’ll start from the beginning.” I put both hands on the table. “The videos that have gone viral of the two of us have brought unprecedented traffic to our social media accounts, and it’s starting to reflect in the ticket and merchandising earnings.”

Logan pushes the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms and folds his arms. A second later I realize why that had to be the succession of actions. His forearms, corded with defined muscles and thick ropes of veins, seem to grow in size with his arms folded. I wonder if he’s torn his clothes before just from simple movements that no one else has to consider.

A second later, he lifts one eyebrow slowly. “Is that so?”

Somehow I resist the urge to squirm.

“Yes. Spoiler alert, your jersey’s the top bestseller right now. The next one is a very distant second.” And all of this is true, I did some research in preparation for this conversation.

“And how does this pertain to me dating you?” Why is a corner of his lips rising like that? “Or not.”

“That’s what I’m getting to.” Here I pause to rearrange myself on my seat. Logan must know I’m stalling, because he diverts his attention to turning on the grill on the table and taking utensils from the cup against the wall. He puts two chopsticks on his napkin, and a fork and knife on mine. “Erm…”

“I’m listening.” He leans back once more, tilting his head back in a way that makes his eyes half close. When he looks at me like that, my train of thought derails twice more before I figure out that the alcohol is hitting me.

Of course I know that Logan Kim is conventionally very attractive. There’s just no way I am finding him attractive, though, not when I don’t care about guys who are out of my league.

I reach for more liquid courage and he stops me—by grabbing my hand with his much larger, hotter, calloused one, and prying mine away from the bottle. I watch as he pours me another shot.

“Drink slower this time.”

I don’t. I slam that shit like it’s my job, and he shakes his head at me.

After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and finding that the third shot had less kick, I continue. “So anyway, the marketing team would like to make a series of videos with the two of us. We haven’t really defined the particulars—we’d prefer to have your okay before we think any further about this. But basically, we’d let the public think that there’s something between us to keep them hooked.”

“Fake dating?” He blinks hard. “That only happens in books.”

I reel back. “How do you know that?”

“What? I read books.” Logan frowns, fully offended.

“But… romance books?”

“I read everything. Even picture books.” He folds those thick arms again.

A waitress comes bearing an enormous tray packed with tiny round dishes that she starts loading onto our table. Logan helps her make space for more, and I’m distracted from the food by picturing Logan Kim reading a big romance tome with a straight face. Only when the big dishes come—bowls of rice, a pile of lettuce leaves, and a mountain of raw meat—do I finally snap out of it.

Wait, are those scissors? And a tong?

“Wait, wait.” I try to take it all in at once. “What do I do? How do I eat this?”

“I’ll show you,” he responds in that deep, slightly velvety voice of his. “First, we have to grill the meat.” Using the tongs, he grabs little mounds of the meat and spreads them evenly over the surface of the grill. He sets the tongs down on the plate with yet more raw meat, and tips his head at me. “So, fake dating.”

I shake my head hard. “Right, I guess that’s what it is. It would only have to be in front of the camera though, no big deal.”

“Is that what you think?” His lips pinch into an expression of pity. “The second a fan catches us being all…” He motions between us. “Like this to each other, that illusion will be shattered and that’ll be all social media talks about.”

I blow a raspberry. “So what are you suggesting? That we fake date twenty-four-seven?”

“Definitely not on rest days.” He picks up the tongs and starts flipping meat.

I open and close my mouth, flabbergasted. Like, I expected outright refusal but that’s not it. He’s proposing we go above and beyond.

And a potential promotion of my dreams awaits down the line. Doesn’t seem like a huge sacrifice to me.

“Fine, go big or go home, right?” I shrug like this is no biggie. “We fake date beyond the camera to be really convincing and get even more viral. Does this mean you’re in?”

“No.”

“What?” I screech.

The absolute jerk is still as cool as a cucumber as he reaches for a lettuce leaf and starts putting random food on it, finally topping it with a piece of perfectly cooked meat. He makes a bundle with the leaf, keeping everything inside, and reaches over the table to offer it to me.

“This is how you eat all this. Say ah.”

“I know how to feed myself,” I mumble, eyes wide.

“ Ah .” He opens his mouth, exemplifying like I’m a baby and not moving an inch. I get the feeling he is willing to stay frozen like this until I comply.

My stomach roars, prompting me forward. I bite big and take the bundle of food off his hand. He nods like he’s proud of me, and busies himself with preparing another bite.

Fortunately, that keeps him from noticing how my cheeks are full to bursting. I cover my mouth with a hand, just in case I’m about to embarrass myself. Flavors hit my tastebuds from every direction and it’s so good that I moan.

This does get his attention.

His eyebrows make that slow rise again. “You like it?”

I can’t speak, so I just nod and keep chewing.

He measures the same amount of sides on a new lettuce leaf, except he adds twice the amount of meat and also stuffs a spoonful of rice down his gullet. I can’t even get angry that he put less meat on my bite when I can’t compete with his appetite.

Once I’m done eating, I get started on assembling a bite for myself and ask, “So why not?”

“How good are you at keeping secrets?” he asks while chewing, not at all concerned with appearing tidy and demure like I have been.

So I stop caring too and start stuffing food in my mouth as I talk. “Decent, unless it’s a life or death situation.”

Logan swallows down his food and immediately reaches for more. “I’m planning to change to another team this season. It’s why my agent already declined this request.”

I freeze.

Do a double take.

Open and close my mouth.

Oh my word. The fans will be devastated.

The team will be devastated.

My chances of a promotion are ruined.

“Wait, so you already knew? And you made me say all this?” I whine.

“First, I didn’t make you.” He gives me an annoyed look. “Second, I didn’t know that this was the personal thing you wanted to talk about.”

“Ugh.” I make a grab for the soju bottle but he’s faster. Instead of pouring a full shot, he gives me half. “Don’t be stingy now, especially not when you’re betraying us.”

“I don’t know what those two things have to do with each other, but you need more food in your belly and less alcohol.”

“I’m twenty six, not sixteen,” I mumble through a mouthful. He snorts.

“Fine, but don’t blame me for your hangover tomorrow.” At last, he tops up my shot glass.

I drink it together with the food and—whoa. “Well, shit. This is delicious together.”

“I know,” he says in a sullen way, and I remember that he’s not supposed to drink alcohol in the middle of the season. He can—certainly some of the guys do, like my ex—but it can also really affect performance, and the very disciplined guys like Logan Kim would rather keep making the millions of dollars for longer.

“When are you leaving us?”

“I don’t know. Negotiations are under way.”

I lean forward. “Couldn’t we just pretend to date until you go? Stage a breakup when it’s time? That’ll also get us engagement.”

Logan also leans forward, elbows on the table. “Is that all you’re after? Views on social media? You’re willing to go this far for that?”

“Well…” His eyes narrow at my little slip. He did share a humongous secret just now so maybe I should reciprocate. “Actually, there’s a chance this could get me a promotion.”

His lips curve. “Now we’re talking.”

“Steve Boateng is retiring soon, and maybe if I get my face recognized by the fans I can apply to take his position.” I shrug, like what I’m saying isn’t my dream since college, ever since my hopes of becoming Miss USA crumbled to dust.

“And hypothetically,” he comments while spreading more meat on the grill, “if I wasn’t leaving the team, what would I even get out of this?”

“Uh…” I—shit. I can’t think of anything convincing enough, so I start spitballing. “Higher brand recognition? More endorsements? Maybe from beauty brands? Commercials? Cameos?” When nothing seems to land, my mind starts to break. “A fake girlfriend who can beat off your Annies with a stick? Or how about a fake girlfriend who can feed you? Say ah.”

“What?” His face scrunches up.

“Say ah .” I shake the bundle of food I prepared in front of his face.

Still staring at me, he reaches forward to bite the food. I jump a mile when his upper lip brushes against my finger ever so slightly.

But Logan doesn’t seem to notice. As he chews, he asks, “What did you say about Annies?”

“You have some pretty, uh, intense fans. Trust me. I’ve seen their unhinged comments.” I spread a hand over my chest. “I can shield you from them.”

“Yeah?” He tucks his hair behind his ear and leans back. “And what if they try to manhandle you again?”

“That’s what security is for.” I offer my sweetest smile, and also lift up my shot glass so he tops it with the last little bit in the bottle. Grunting, he reaches for the bottle and obeys. “Good boy.”

He stops. “Am I a dog now?”

“Just practicing for when we’re fake dating.” I laugh and toss back the last of the soju. A big hah comes out of me when I’m done. I can feel the heat of the drink expanding through my ribcage and if it wasn’t for the food, I’d be well on my way to slurring my words. So I won’t get a second bottle, which is a shame. It really is yummy. Maybe I should just come here again.

After a moment of placid eating where he consumes twice the amount of food I do in the same time, and where the waitress keeps bringing more side dishes and rice, I say, “What about charity? Helping your fellow coworker get the promotion she has dreamed about for years.”

“Do I look like I have a heart?” He seems almost offended by the notion.

I tilt my head. “Something is pumping all the blood through your big body, right?”

One of his eyes twitches and he presses his lips tight. “What if I get traded tomorrow?”

“Then it’s no big deal. We probably won’t have sufficient content to reel people in by tomorrow.” I lean forward again, but smiling this time. “What if you don’t get traded so fast?”

“I already have three offers.” He takes a big sip of his water.

“Well, did you accept any?”

Grudgingly he admits, “No.”

“Then I have a chance.” I tilt my chin up. “And if I don’t convince you tonight, I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“You’ll be too hungover tomorrow to remember most of this conversation.”

“I am very stubborn, Logan Kim.”

“So I am discovering.” He turns to signal to the waitress. “One more, please.”

“No, thanks. I actually won’t drink more?—”

“Of meat,” he explains. “And I’m glad—if you have a second bottle we might end up in the hospital. Are you eating that?”

“Go for it, you animal.” I slide my half eaten bowl of rice toward him. I’m not even going to ask him where he puts all that food away when his forearm muscles are taunting me like that. Besides, I’ve seem him sweat. He’ll burn all of this at the gym tomorrow before even playing a game.

I switch to water after that and eat more of the veggies and the meat, but by the time we’re leaving the restaurant I’m definitely swaying a little. I stumble on a crack on the sidewalk and Logan grabs me by the elbow.

“That’s it, you’re not driving,” he announces.

“But…” I motion toward my car parked at the back. “My car! I can’t leave it here.”

“Yeah, you will. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive.”

“But—”

“Rose.” My name coming out like a growl from his throat paralyzes me. “I’m taking you home and that’s final.”

I scrunch up my face in a grumpy expression. “Fine.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but he steers me to stand under a lamplight. “Wait here.”

“Okay.” I hold tight to my purse like that alone can stop me from swaying.

Logan disappears into the darkness and I struggle with making out much of the parking lot with the bright white light above me. Crickets sing all around me, competing with the leaves twinkling in the wind. It’s starting to sound like summer, and summer is prime baseball season.

I can’t believe that Logan Kim will be gone by that point.

A different sound comes on then, like a roar. Something slightly familiar but jarring against the crickets. And then he appears under the light again, and he’s offering me something black and kind of shiny.

“Put this on.”

“Hmm?” I squint down at it.

“It’s my jacket.”

Slowly, I glance up. “Why would I need your jacket?”

“Just put it on.” He pushes the bundled up fabric against my belly.

I make a big operation of him holding my purse while I put on his blasted jacket—and it takes me two tries to get my left arm in the correct hole. Then Logan takes one step closer and I watch, almost like an out of body experience, as he fits the bottom tabs together and zips the jacket up all the way to my throat.

A waft of some kind of cologne hits my nose. It’s pine and man, enough to get me twice as drunk.

My body leans forward as he turns to disappear in the dark again, like I’m trying to follow him. He’s back as I’m struggling to keep steady.

“Whoa, there.” His hand’s on my elbow again. “You’re looking slightly worse by the second.”

“That’s not very kind to say to a girl,” I slur, now fully incapable of using my normal voice.

Sighing, he mutters, “Told you to drink more water.”

I repeat his words in a mocking way, but then he’s pressing something against my head. “What the—” He pushes the thing all the way down and gives it a hearty bump at the top. I blink fast at him through the open visor of the helmet he just put on my head. “Don’t tell me…”

“Yeah, I’m on my bike,” he says.

“But you can take my car,” I whine.

“And then how do I get home?”

I think about this. “My car?”

A smile is threatening to spill on his face. I know it. “And then how do you get to work tomorrow?”

“Uber?” I ask, rolling the r the Spanish way. “Or I could take one now.”

“Hell no. I’m not trusting you to a stranger when you’re like this.”

“But Logan.” I say with extra emphasis. “You’re also a stranger.”

“No, I’m not.” He looks for something in his pants and produces it—his wallet? No. His phone. He’s dialing someone while keeping his eyes on me. “Hey, Hope. FYI that I’m driving your drunk as shit roommate over to your place—not that one, the tall one with the sharp tongue.”

“I don’t have a sharp tongue!” I complain, bringing a hand up to my mouth. “It would cut myself, you know?”

“Yes, I did tell her not to drink so much,” he deadpans to the phone. “And tell your boyfriend to stop being a jealous prick. Yeah, I’ll text you when she’s home and you can call her. ‘Kay, bye.” He ends the call and puts his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

Sighing, I force my legs to follow him. His bike is idling just a few steps from us, in the middle of the parking lot. For some reason it looks way bigger than ever.

“How do I even get on this thing?” I mumble, trying to lift a leg over the massively tall seat.

“Hold.” Logan leaves my side to easily swing a leg over the bike and settle on his seat. He kicks something and then leans over to point at a small protrusion on the back. “See this peg? Grab my shoulders and put your right foot on it to hoist yourself up.”

“Ohh, okay. I can do that, I think.” I approach from the side and after a minor hesitation, I splay my hands on his shoulders and pause.

He turns over his shoulder. “What?”

“Hold,” I repeat, frowning. “Processing.”

That’s exactly what I’m doing. His shoulders feel like no other shoulders I’ve ever touched in my life. They’re way harder than I expected, and also larger. In fact, my hands look small on them. I squeeze harder and there’s no give. All that accomplishes is searing his contour in my mind forever.

“Foot?” He prompts. “On peg?”

“Right.” I’m clumsier than usual but somehow manage to rise on the foot peg, swing my left leg and find the other peg. But now I’m standing awkwardly behind him, bent forward as I grab his shoulders. I speak to the top of his head. “Now what?”

Logan leans his head back and even in my tipsy state, I can tell he’s holding back laughter. “Now you sit down, you clown.”

“But then it’s gonna be awkward.”

“What do you mean?” Is it just me, or are his eyes shining?

“Like.” I blow an exasperated breath. “My thighs are going to be around your waist. At least buy me dinner first, man.”

“Uh.” He coughs. “I, in fact, did pay for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, true.” I lower myself and— “Oof.”

This is not my fault. I’m in my cups but not this bad. It’s the seat and gravity’s fault. This thing is tilted forward and I slide all the way down to crash against Logan’s back.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t?—”

“Hold tight,” he says like I’m not glued to him already. But then he finds my hands, awkwardly smushed against his lower back, and pulls at them. My arms circle his waist and he slides them under his backpack, which he’s wearing against his chest. He joins my hands at his stomach and I grab fistfuls of his shirt.

And then we’re off.

A squeal tears out of me because at first, it feels like the wind will topple me back and off the bike. But somehow I stay on. Maybe it’s because my arms are a barnacle around Logan’s unfairly tiny waist. Or because my thighs cinch as tight as they can around him. My head falls against the dip between his shoulder blades and the heat of his back is positively searing. But I know that if I let go of this man for a second, I’ll be in serious trouble.

My arms start shaking after a while and he must feel it, because suddenly one of those big hands of his closes around my arm and slides it lower so I’m not fighting so hard against gravity. Except my hands reach the waist of his joggers and that jolts me—there’s no way I can relax more than this before making us both crash.

I’m on my best behavior after that, for someone who is drunk and also wrapped up around someone who is a step up from a stranger. I even stay wrapped around him when he finally turns off his bike, deathly afraid of falling.

“And here we are,” Logan declares with a raspy voice.

“How do I get off?” I ask directly to his massive back. The world tilts a little and I squeeze him tighter.

Logan coughs and feels around my arms until he finds my hands, then tries to pry them off but I won’t budge. “Uh, first you have to let me go.”

“But then I’ll fall,” I explain.

“Not with the kick stand to balance the bike.” Oh, that must’ve been the thingy he kicked earlier. With his other hand, he taps my knee. “C’mon, ease off.”

“If I fall, I will hunt you down.”

“Rose, you won’t die from a fall this low.” He really puts some strength into tearing my arms open and it works. Next, he pushes both of my knees to spread and in the blink of an eye he’s gone.

I have a quick moment of panic where I don’t know where to put my hands and the world starts tilting again, but then a pair of big hands is on my waist from behind, and he lifts me off the bike like I’m not 5 foot 8. I bring my knees up in the air so I don’t kick his bike, deep down fearing he would kill me for that.

Finally, I can put my feet on the ground. As he spins me around, I catch sight of his backpack laying on the sidewalk by the spot I usually park at. I sway as I face him.

“Purse,” he says, offering a hand palm facing up.

“What, robbing me now?” I joke even as I fumble with the strap of my purse.

My arms are tired from all the effort it took to not blow away into a premature death, and I can’t for the life of me figure out this jacket. He’s the one who takes my purse and hangs it around his neck, and once again I watch as he unzips his jacket from me.

“Stay still,” Logan commands, reaching for the jacket and taking it off me with surprising efficiency, even though for a quick second there I almost eat his shoulder.

As he takes the garment, he returns my purse and I slide the strap over my shoulder. In an exaggeratedly peppy voice, I say, “Thanks for the ride home. Let’s not do that again any time soon. But I’m in for food again. Bye, goodnight, bye…” I drag the last word as I stumble around the bike toward the driveway.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Serious, I turn over my shoulder and say, “This wasn’t actually a date, Logan. I’m not gonna kiss you.”

“Not that.” He waves a hand like the concept is completely absurd. “My helmet.”

“Oh.” Oh . I wish a black hole could open up and swallow me whole.

I retrace my steps on tippy toes, struggling to pull the thing off my head. Again, it requires his effort to do so. I blow air hard enough to push away a curl that has glued to my face and it doesn’t budge.

But then Logan helps me with that too.

He slides the pad of a finger across my cheek, ever so softly, and pushes my hair all the way behind my ear. His eyes are fixed on the motion, and when he’s done they focus back on mine.

“I’ll do it,” he says all of a sudden.

“Do what?” I slur, frowning in confusion.

“I’ll fake date you until I get traded.”

My jaw drops.