Chapter 17
ALEX
Iknock frantically on the door of the Honeycomb Cafe.
I’m desperately hoping someone is still closing up shop because I’m short on money, and I’m counting on some of my tips still being in my tip jar.
A figure approaches the door, and I relax when I realize it’s Simon.
I hear the lock click open, and he swings the door wide.
“Alex?” Simon asks.
“I needed some money from my tip jar—if that’s okay,” I say, my eyes pleading.
Simon steps aside. “Enter, if you dare.”
“Thanks,” I manage, walking past him toward the counter.
“You going on a date?”
I freeze and turn to him. “What?”
He sizes me up. “You’re dressed pretty nicely. I can smell your cologne from here.”
I frown. “What? No, it’s—it’s not like that. I’m going to the game and forgot you have to pay cash to get in.”
I bend down and look for my tip jar beneath the counter.
After rummaging through the various jars, I find mine.
I open it and dump all the bills and change onto the counter.
“And who exactly are you going with?”
“No one,” I say, counting my money. I have enough for two tickets and a little left over for food, if I want.
I breathe a sigh of relief and look up at Simon. “Just a friend.”
“A friend or more than a friend?”
I grit my teeth. “God, has Vicki gotten to you, too?”
Simon frowns. “What?”
“Nothing,” I grumble, putting my tip jar back in its rightful place.
I glance at my reflection in a nearby mirror, brush a lock of hair off my forehead, and size myself up.
“Oh, you’re definitely going on a date,” Simon comments.
I whip around to face him. “Don’t you have closing tasks to do?”
Simon puts his hands up and continues sweeping.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say in a much nicer tone as I open the door. “Thanks for letting me in. I owe you one.”
Simon smirks. “You owe me the name of the person you’re going on a date with.”
I grit my teeth. “Not that!”
I let the door close behind me as I briskly walk back toward campus. I check my watch. I’m running on time. There’s no need to stress.
Adrenaline runs through my hands as I approach the ticket booth.
I stand off to the side and watch hordes of people dressed in maroon and gold pass by, rowdy and full of energy like they’re the ones about to play on the field.
The air feels electric as everyone chatters around me, tossing around football terms I have no clue about.
Some people have blowhorns, and others are carrying some kind of plastic trumpet that will surely irritate me as the game goes on.
My stomach grumbles as the smell of popcorn and hot dogs wafts through the crisp evening air.
Logan said he’d be here soon.
I’m not sure why the thought of watching this game makes me so nervous. Maybe it’s spending time with Logan that does.
“Callum is so nervous about this game, but I have no idea why…”
I notice Mason walking past me with his friend Jenna.
“Mason!” I shout.
He turns and spots me. “Alex? What are you doing here?”
“I’m, uh, gonna watch the game.”
Mason and Jenna approach me.
“Hey,” Jenna says, smiling as she pushes a strand of brown hair out of her eyes.
“Hi,” I reply.
Mason raises an eyebrow. “You’re here to see the game? I didn’t know football was your scene.”
I clear my throat. “It’s not, but, uh—I figured since you had such a good outcome from going to the games, maybe I should go too…”
The words sound lame the moment they leave my mouth.
Mason nods, squinting at me through his glasses like he knows all my secrets, and he just might.
“Are you meeting someone?” Mason asks.
I nod. “Yeah, just a friend. He should be here soon.”
“Well, would you and your friend want to sit next to us in the stands?” Mason asks.
I mull over the question. Callum is dating Mason, and Craig Monteith is dating Jenna, so they wouldn’t be complete strangers to Logan.
“Maybe. I’ll ask him when he gets here. I’ll text you if it works out, okay?” I say.
Mason smiles. “Sure. I’ll try to save you both a seat just in case.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Jenna and Mason give me quick goodbyes and make their way into the stands, following the stampede of people heading into the stadium.
I let out a breath as I peer over the heads of the passing crowd, hoping to spot Logan’s familiar hat.
“Alex?”
I turn to the left and see Logan, wearing a maroon Hornets sweater and his usual backward cap.
I swallow hard. “Logan, hi.”
“Did you buy your ticket yet?” Logan asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweater.
“Not yet. I was going to buy them for both of us.”
Logan frowns. “What? I was the one who asked you to come. If anything, I’m paying for them.”
Before I can argue, Logan sidesteps me and walks up to the ticket booth.
“What? No, Logan—”
“Too late,” Logan says as someone hands him two maroon tickets. He waves them in front of my face in triumph.
“I’m getting the next one,” I mumble.
“We’ll see about that,” Logan says, tilting his head for me to follow him toward the stands.
Someone takes our tickets, tears them in half, and lets us through. Logan smiles down at me.
“I’m actually really excited. I haven’t felt that way in a while.”
I think of the smile on my mom’s face after her doctor’s appointment and how much misery it took to get it back.
I hate that so much happiness has been taken away from him, and I want nothing more than to keep seeing him smile like he is now.
“I’m glad you are. You deserve it, Logan.”
Logan’s smile falters slightly, but we continue into the stadium.
“I have a couple of friends who said they’d save us seats if you want to sit with them. It’s Mason Fanning and his friend Jenna.”
“Jenna, the one dating Craig Monteith?” Logan asks.
I nod.
He shrugs. “Why not? I’m sure it’ll be fun cheering on my friends next to them.”
I give him a thumbs-up before pulling out my phone and texting Mason that we’re coming.
He sends me his section, and I tug on Logan’s sweater.
“This way.”
Logan looks down at my hand on his sweater and then back up at me.
“You okay?” I ask.
He swallows. “Yeah. Sorry. Not used to being in big crowds.”
I keep hold of his sweater as I guide him through the swarm of people toward Mason’s section.
Mason and Jenna are mid-conversation, but Jenna stops talking when she sees me with Logan in tow.
Mason notices her reaction and turns to look in our direction, too.
“Hey. Logan, right?” Jenna asks.
Logan gives her a shy smile. “Yeah. Jenna Bean, right?”
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Craig has got to stop telling his friends my nickname. It loses its luster that way.”
“It’ll be just Jenna from now on, then. I assure you.”
Jenna smiles. “Good.”
I touch Logan’s arm. “You know Mason, of course.”
Mason pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hi, Logan.”
“Sup,” Logan says, his voice a little more strained.
“You can take those seats. I saved them for you,” Mason says, gesturing to the seats on his left.
“Thanks,” I mutter, sitting down next to Mason with Logan on my other side.
Mason and Jenna are each holding a pretzel and a gigantic cup of soda.
“Where did you guys get your food?” I ask.
“It’s just past the entrance on the right. You missed it?” Mason asks, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
I don’t tell him that I was too focused on making sure Logan was okay to notice the food stand.
“Those pretzels look good,” Logan comments, leaning forward to look at Jenna and Mason.
“They’re eight dollars each,” Jenna says with a grimace.
“Maybe not so good,” Logan mutters.
“I’m kind of hungry. Do you want something?” I ask.
Logan shakes his head. “Nah, I’m fine.”
I squint at him. “You sure? You told me you just came from the gym.”
“And I had a protein shake.”
“And that’s going to last you for the next three hours?”
Logan chuckles. “I’m fine, Alex.”
I sigh. “Fine. Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
“Actually, I wanted to get some Twizzlers. I’ll come with you,” Mason says.
I glance at Logan one last time. “You’re still okay with this?” I whisper.
He flaps a hand dismissively. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me. Get some food in you.”
I give Logan another once-over, trying to see if he looks ready to bolt at any second. He still seems uncomfortable, but not enough to want to leave.
That’s all I can hope for right now.
I turn back to Mason, whose eyes are darting between Logan and me.
“Lead the way,” I tell him.
Mason and I leave the seating area just as a horde of maroon-and-gold-clad fans file into the row behind us.
My stomach grumbles louder as the smell of pretzels grows even stronger.
“So, you and Logan are getting really close now, huh?” Mason asks as soon as we stop in line.
“Yeah. Just in the past couple of weeks.”
“And how did that happen?”
I keep my eyes fixed on the menu. “He became a regular at the cafe after I talked to you last. I helped him with his journalism homework, too.”
Mason hums.
I shift on my feet, wondering what he’s going to say next. It feels like he’s trying to smoke me out for something.
“How’s he doing? I’m surprised he came to a game, honestly,” Mason says.
A girl at the handoff area somehow manages to carry eight pretzels at once. She squeezes past us, and my stomach grumbles even louder.
“He’s fine.”
“Are you sure? I heard you ask him a couple of times how he’s doing.”
I can tell by the way he’s asking questions that Mason is wearing his “journalist” hat. He’s trying to figure something out.
“Because it’s hard for him coming back, but he still wanted to support the team.”
“And he needs you to ask him how he’s doing every few minutes?” Mason presses.
Ah. There it is.
He has a problem with how I’m handling Logan.
I roll my eyes. “I’ve been helping him with his... I don’t know—his injury. I’m just being a friend.”
Mason folds his arms as the line shuffles forward.
“I know I already said this, but Logan’s not someone you should see as a project, Alex.”
I clench my fists. “Why are you so confident that’s what I’m doing?”
“Because you’re a journalist. That’s what we do.”
“You mean what I do.”
Mason bites his lip. “Okay, I may be a physicist at heart, but I’m still on The Goldberg, too. And I can tell your keen interest in him means something more.”