37. Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Evie
I'm in trouble. Major trouble.
I'm falling for Logan. Fast and hard.
Almost-run-onto-the-field-because-he-was-tackled fast.
I-have-eyes-for-no-one-else hard.
The TV crew and I wait outside the locker room, in the press side hall. Interviews often occur in this section, and now we hang out as we wait for Logan to appear.
Despite the tense emails we've exchanged— 'as per my last' was used more than once on my end, insisting they cannot bring Logan's dad up into the conversation— I smile at them in an effort to smooth things over. They're polite enough to reciprocate, but we don't chat. It's fine for now. I entertain myself by getting on my phone, even if I'm just opening and closing apps at random. Logan might still take a while.
An old part of me still wants to run and hide from my feelings for him. A bigger, newer part of me knows Logan would find me and make me talk to him. It's one of the reasons I'm so into him, and one of the reasons why I won' t run, and I'll stay. Most of all, I persevere because the idea of leaving him behind and not having him close is worse than anything else.
But that means I have to take the risk and stick around. Get used to having a few of my things in his place, and hope we find our way through the jungle of what ifs plaguing my mind. It would likely require me to accept the money he offered for my parents, as a show of trust in us and what he's promised.
If I want to make sure I discover good boundaries with people, the kind that breathe and shift as days go by and life happens, then I have to believe him. He's given me no reason to doubt him.
In fact, he's built a case for himself without me knowing. This morning I received a few emails from the gala organization crew and a few foundations, to thank me for the generous donations I made during the party. Among all the questions I carry with me these days, who is responsible for those donations isn't one of them.
I sigh. Logan hasn't appeared yet. I take the time to tackle the issue of the quarterback with my two long-distance friends.
Evie: Hypothetically, if one were to admit that maybe there's a slight chance I could perhaps be considering the notion that I might be falling for Logan King… how might one make that reveal to her friends, then ask for help in the same text thread? Consider one might usually struggle opening up and asking for help.
I don't get an immediate response. The app where I post my videos of Logan is an automatic time killer, and I open it to check notifications and get a sense of what people are posting about him. A theme becomes immediately apparent— people are in awe of his play. I scroll past a few amateur commentators, and clips from professional analysts breaking down the play. My heart goes into a gallop. Joy for him and a big chunk of pride over his skill beat alongside the blood-pumping organ .
His play today, with its potential to make history, is the cherry on top to an incredible season. Anyone who knows anything about the sport will recognize Logan's talent. A plan starts taking shape in my mind. I'll edit a highlight reel, force Logan into a media room at TD, and force him to watch how people admire him. I will make him see how people see his greatness…
My smitten thoughts fade when a clip featuring Kenneth King crosses my feed.
The man's hair has gone salt and pepper, in that way that makes a person look distinguished. Wrinkles have taken shape at the corners of his eyes, but it only adds to the air of sophistication. Logan isn't a younger mirror image of his father, but I can see hints of my boyf— I can see clear signs they're related.
"Of course I'm proud of my son," Kenneth King says. "Listen— maybe it's time I break my rules and talk about Logan. You know why I never say much? Because I can't be objective. If someone is going to break my records and leave every quarterback behind, I'm glad it's my son. But if I were him, I'd hate every second someone compares me to my dad. I'd want people to be objective about my skills, and no one has been truly objective when they see what he can do— you see him through the eyes of who I was as a quarterback and that's honestly— I will not participate in that. And neither should you. Especially after a game like today. You all know what he did. That's not how I played. So maybe discover what Logan's career will be, regardless of how proud I am of him."
I blink away the mist in my eyes and save this video to show Logan. It will mean a lot to him. It may even steal another smile from his stern lips.
A text notification finally appears and I immediately click into it.
Ren: In consideration of how hard it may be for this anonymous person to ask for help or admit they have been fooling themselves re: said football player, I would suggest they start with an executive summary of the state of the union
Pri: Her friends might be willing to promise to keep the teasing to a minimum, if that would help.
Evie: It would help. Voice note incoming.
I step away and hide around a corner, and whisper my secrets into my phone. I tell them of our one-night-stand and ending up working with him. How his grumpy ways soften around me, and how he knows when and how to push to make sure I give him a chance. How we agreed to sex that would end in friendship, but now I don't want either to end.
I talk softly into the mic. "So I've been thinking and maybe— maybe that means I'm falling for him? The fact that I enjoy him, and I miss him when he's away for games, and I want every night with him and every dinner. That I want to wear his jersey and I want those heart hands to be for me."
I shake my head and steal a glance at the crew. Logan isn't here yet.
I continue my voice note. "I've depended on such rigid boundaries for so long— no friendship except for you two and— I'm so sorry— I know I've kept you at a distance. There are things you don't know about me. But I thought I needed a steel fortress around my heart, or I'd have no limits at all. It was all or nothing, and I couldn't handle more."
I shuffle the tip of my vintage heel on the carpet under my feet.
I sigh. "I thought I had to choose between friendship and sex, because sex would blur the lines too much. That I wouldn't find them at all, afterwards. But we've had no issues! It's going so well. And now I'm wondering… maybe I can discover what friendship can be with you both, and the guys on the team I'm closer to."
I steal another glance toward the crew. Logan is there, hair wet and fresh from the shower, wearing clothes that although casual— trousers, a shirt, and a fashionable jacket in shades of blue— I'm sure cost more than my car. His frown is in place, but right now it only adds to his sex appeal .
Full-on bird-sized butterflies take over my stomach. I want to run to him, hug him again, praise him, and never let him go.
I keep my eyes on him as I share my final thoughts. "But Logan… maybe I get to discover something else with him. I never thought I'd end up in a universe where I wanted something like this with my first one-night-stand, but here I am. Wanting to see if there's a way to have the friendship we were building and sex and something unique. An intimacy that's only between us."
I sigh and lean on the wall. This message is already long, and I need to go monitor the interview, but I allow myself two extra l lines.
"It's hard for me to share all of this," I say. "But I hope it's another way in which I'm opening up. This time with two friends I really care about. So listen and send me your thoughts, okay? I'd love to hear what my friends have to say, as I discover what Logan and I might have."
I tap on the buttons that send them the voice note. Gathering up my strength and resolution, I wrap myself in joy and hope, and I go back to the interviewing group.
The lights of the camera shine on Logan, making his eyes look light blue. His frown is severe, just like the line of his lips.
He shakes his head. "In moments like those, I'm not thinking how it will look to people watching. All my focus is on making the play work."
"When did you realize what you had done?" The producer asks from behind the cameras.
"I'm not sure I have fully figured it out yet."
"Can you add more?"
"My QB coach showed me the video afterwards. I'll have to study it to fully get it in my head… and do it again next season."
"It must be disappointing to lose so close to the big game."
"It is, but it doesn't erase what the team did this year."
"Some commentators are calling the Strike a one-hit wonder."
"They're mistaken. We'll do this again, and go even further. "
"Other commentators have complained that you deserve objectivity you have not received."
Logan frown deepens. One of my own appears on my brow. I watch the scene, getting ready to intervene.
The producer continues. "One show host in particular has a lot to say about it. They said there should be topics no one discusses around you. Do you think people have been objective when they talk about you?"
Dammit. They are ignoring the limits I set and asking about Logan's dad.
I step into the frame before I know what I'm doing. "Uhm… no. I'm sorry. We cannot accept that."
I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the bright light. Logan's eyes set on me, but I'm too busy throwing my most serious gesture in the producer's direction.
My presence in front of the cameras will ruin the shot, but it's better this way. They may not have mentioned Kenneth King, but it's a trap regardless.
"It's not a fair question," I say. "Logan doesn't know you're talking about his father and it could put him in a bad PR situation."
"The question wasn't about his father," the producer says. "We're asking about whether Logan feels he's been treated unfairly."
"But it's an oblique way to get him to comment on Kenneth King's words. So no. Please rephrase or skip altogether."
Logan places a hand low on my back. I turn to him automatically.
He speaks to my ear. "My dad said something? Did you watch it?"
I cover my mouth so no one can read my lips.
I respond to his ear as well. "Yes. It was nice. He was the one to say you deserved the objectivity and that's why he doesn't comment."
He pulls back and searches my eyes. I see my words clicking into place, as he shifts through what it means to him.
I squeeze his arm. He leans in again.
"Thank you." He kisses my temple. "I got this."
I nod and step away. I stand behind the crew this time, to watch from afar .
He faces the cameras again. His serious eyes glint for the crowd he can't see. He looks taller than ever, and grounded like his foundations reach deep into the earth. Confidence exudes from him, to the point I'm certain everyone will believe every word he says.
He purses his lips. "Everyone deserves objectivity. All players and all teams. New and old. When I'm on the field, I want to be seen for what I'm doing there. I want everyone to see how the team and I work in tandem like we've been doing this for years, and how we can only get better from here on out. This is my redemption— that now that I had a chance, I've proven what an amazing team like the Strike and I can do. That in those three seconds I have the ball in my hands, I can promise you'll hold your breath, because you won't want to miss what comes next."
Logan has never given an answer this long or this passionate on screen before. The crew and I watch in awe. I don't know if anyone else's heart drums deep and long in their chest, but mine does. He's talking to us but, above all, he's talking to every single fan at home.
Logan stares straight into the camera. "If anyone has been unfair, this is their chance to do better. Watch us play, and hear the thunder. Everything else is just for show."
We all remain quiet for a second longer. Logan takes it as an end to the interview— or an opening for an escape.
"Thank you," he says. "See you all next year."
He walks right through the crew, with firm steps in my direction. His eyes are intense, but I have attuned to his microexpressions.
This frown is different. It's a decision.
I'm prepared. My smile spreads slowly with each step he takes.
He reaches me, surrounds me with his arms, and pulls me close. I hook my arms around his neck. We kiss in front of everyone else, witnesses be damned.