33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
Evie
The second half of the Divisional game is halfway done, and the Strike has just gotten the ball back. Our team is a few points up, but the score is too close to call. The energy in the box is hopeful. If the Strike win this game and the next two, they might have their first ring. It's unlikely to happen, considering the guys will have to play against the Pythons if they make it to the conference game. To use Logan's words, it would break the football world if the Strike won over the season's favorite.
Winning these three games is statistically low, and the biggest challenge the team has had to face. The odds are stacked against us, but dreams push everyone forward. Now everyone is at the edge of their seat, crossing their fingers. Including me, overlooking the field through the large box windows, with Nat next to me.
She wears Damián's jersey. I wear Logan's. We watch the offensive team take position in silence. My heart beats fast, because every time the quarterback gets the ball, it's a chance to set the win for the team.
The ball snaps. Logan holds it in position as he reads the field, and everyone fights to reach their best placement. In less than three seconds, Saint breaks free and Logan throws the ball at him. The wide receiver catches it, turns, and sprints forward, always aiming for a touchdown— he gains several yards, but is tackled halfway to the end zone.
It's an incredible play. The whole thing takes less than ten seconds and a hundred beats of my heart. The team celebrates on the field. Nat and I hug in excitement. Bear dances and points at Logan, who takes his own couple of simple dancing steps in celebration.
I laugh. The moves are minimal, perfunctory rather than full of joy like when the rest of the guys do it, but it's adorable .
My heart melts. It aches with lov— longing. With the sweet dream of us being together, like so many people assume we are.
It's his fault for being so damn cute sometimes.
"What's that?" Nat asks, laughing as well. "Logan's dancing?"
"I think they talked about betting on it? During Christmas dinner?"
The big screen flashes big, bold letters that read, HEAR THE THUNDER in shimmering silver over blue. The crowd goes wild, the roar loud up here and filling up the box. The team gets in their formation again. If they can do the same kind of play again, they'll get a touchdown.
"He lost that bet," Nat says. "I see. But he's winning the jersey one, huh?"
I bite the inside of my cheek. "Yep. I should go check the Hypersquared board one of these days and see who's on top."
Without revealing that I'm wearing his jersey out of a collusion agreement with Logan, I'm sure she takes it as evidence we're together. I should care about that more than I do, especially with everything going on of late.
Like his offer, or the fact that someone filmed us in the restaurant earlier in the week. Social media is evenly split between thinking it was a loving moment between us, or him breaking up with me.
So I posted a heavily edited video of him and what I asked him to do on the venue's terrace after the gala. It went wildly viral. It's also how I discovered our whole conversation on that terrace got recorded. It will never see the light of day outside of my phone, but I may have listened to it a few times.
I'm here shaking with the need to kiss you, fisting my hands so I don't grab you and say, 'fuck it. I need you'.
Gaaaah. I may never recover.
And with the way we still enjoy our time together, and how neither of us seems close to wanting this to end. And how we care for each other, and the friendship between us remains strong... This is all feeling very hypothetical .
Roaring reaches us again as the ball snaps. Logan gets tackled but he throws the ball right and Dom catches it. The tight end is open and he runs — he crosses into the end zone and it's a touchdown.
Nat and I jump and laugh and celebrate, as Dom and Saint mirror each other with happy, cocky dancing moves. Logan is on his feet again, roaring and making a power pose move. Bear knocks his helmet against the quarterback's and pats his shoulder. Logan holds him by the shoulders right back. I grin and applaud, joy bright and pulsing in my chest.
Until Logan pushes Bear back, makes a heart with his gloved hands, and points it in the box's direction. On the screen, big bold letters read, THE NEW KING OF FOOTBALL.
A somersault springs through my chest. I get lightheaded. My grin softens, because I'm caught processing what all this means, when this gesture might be for me.
"Look at that," Nat says. "That was a bet, too, if I remember correctly?"
Her words are teasing. Her eyes shine bright.
All I do is nod, though I keep my eyes on the field. Happiness still flickers inside, but it's matched by the sharp edges of risk. Logan King is getting everything he wants, and things he hasn't asked for. Like my heart. He's burrowing into protected, tender places in me, and this time it's not because he's pushing to carve a space for himself in my life .
Nat and I watch Damián score the point after. The Strike has a ten point advantage over the other team now, and winning feels closer than ever.
Falling for Logan feels closer than ever, too.
"Look at you." Logan enters the box right behind Dom, and the quarterback comes to me first. He takes my hand and makes me spin in place. "I knew you'd look stunning in my jersey."
We hug. He squeezes me tight but we keep it short. Too many people are around us, and all of them would love to question us. His eyes drop to my mouth, but he doesn't kiss me.
For effect, I hug Dom, Saint, and Bear as well. Damián is cozy in Nat's arms, but he grins right back at me.
"The Strike is on a roll," I say, "but who's winning the Hypersquared so far?"
"Saint," Dom replies. "But it's tight this year. A few bets are ongoing, and Logan has been racking up the points of late. Look at you in his jersey!"
"Wait until I beat Damián in pinball." Logan's voice is serious. "That crown will be mine."
He punctuates the statement by putting a hand on my lower back, and its warmth seeps through the cotton to my skin. My heart flutters. We're closer to acting like a couple than I had realized.
"Worth it," Saint says, "for the sight of you making a heart in Evie's direction."
I gaze at Logan, waiting for him to correct or complain somehow. Just in case I was wrong. He doesn't. I was right.
My heart flutters.
"That reminds me." Nat takes her phone out of her pocket. "I've been meaning to check if the fans are going wild about that heart."
"It's going to help your guys' work project, I bet," Damián says. "Now everyone will be wondering who that's for."
"They won't be wondering," Bear jokes. "Not if what I hear is right."
"What have you heard?" I ask.
"Pen tells me that you two have a chokehold on the quarterback's fans." Leon's smile is bright through his thick beard, and his scar stark. "Word on the streets is that you're the Queen to his King."
"Queen of PR, at the very least." Nat scrolls on her phone. "My feed is full of the touchdowns, all the dancing, and that heart sign. The Strike's thunder is loud everywhere, from what I can see."
"That's biased, Nat," I say. "Your algo knows you want to see that."
She smirks my way. "Me and another hundred thousand people want to see these videos, from the number of likes. This is great fun for all of us."
Damián's eyes are on Nat's screen. "Look at that one. You're there, too."
Nat stops scrolling, her eyes on her device as well. "Someone on the seats right there uploaded this one. It shows Evie and I at the window celebrating the touchdown."
Damián chuckles. "It has an arrow pointing at you, Evie. It says 'Logan King's Queen'."
My stomach twists. Logan holds me closer.
"Send it to the group chat." Saint stares at us, dimples at full force. "For evidence."
"Evidence for what?" Logan asks in a grouchy tone.
"That you two are pros, of course." Saint's grin grows. "That getting you to make that heart worked, and the fans are sweet on the Strike's new quarterback— even more than before."
Logan's eyes narrow.
"So you can make him do it again, then?" I ask.
"You know me more than I thought," Saint laughs.
Later that night, Logan and I relax in his hot tub on the backyard deck. He wants to melt the tension in his muscles more than anything else, and convinces me to get in there— naked .
He leans deep into the water, his head on the edge of the tub and everything else hidden by the bubbles. Jets hit his shoulders and I've never seen his frown so smooth. I keep an eye on him, in case he falls asleep, while I check social media.
Nat was right. Fans are making edits to celebrate the team, all players included. Those that only feature Logan often include the heart he made, and an image of me in the box.
I'm a professional, and only repost those that come from official channels. Yet I rub my lips and take deep breaths, to try to control what my head whispers each time I see Logan on the screen.
You're falling for him.
This isn't just indulging in fun sex until we're done anymore. My heart is getting involved, and it knocks on the walls I've built around the idea of long term love. The kind that gives and takes. It's what I think Logan and I are building together. But should I stop it, or go for it?
I bite my lip. I think I want to go for it.
Terrifying…
A notification for a text comes through and at first I'm grateful for the distraction. Until I see it's from my friend Ren, to the group chat I keep with her and Pri.
Ren: He made that heart in your direction for work, too? Lol. Evie, I can't wait to hear the whole story one day.
Evie: The heart wasn't for work. That was a bet, actually.
Ren: A bet between you and Logan King?
Evie: Between him and the other players. It's a thing with them
Pri: I notice you're conveniently choosing not to deny it was directed at you.
Evie: … yes
I startle when Logan's wet hand touches my face.
"Everything okay?" he asks.
His eyes are heavy with sleep, but I've learned he doesn't need to be wide awake to read me like a book.
"Yeah." I put my phone away. "Are you feeling ready to get out? Are you relaxed enough for bed?"
"Mmh. No." He pulls me from the arm, and I slide close to him in the water. "Five more minutes."
He leads me to snuggle next to him. I set my head in the crook of his shoulder, my hand on his chest, and a leg around his thick thigh. His arm holds me close, his long fingers anchored on the roll of my hips.
"This," he whispers. "This is what will get me ready for bed."
"I could get used to evenings like this."
"Could you?" He gazes at me, his stormcloud eyes serious.
"Hopping in the hot tub on a Sunday evening, to soothe the blues of another weekend come and gone, before going back to the grind on Monday? Hell yeah, I could get used to it."
"Would you still want to work, if you were rich?"
I sigh. "I'm not sure. I think I would, to some degree, but… I guess it depends on what it would feel like to work without the pressures of my parents' debt. Would I like my current job more? I already do, but what would change if I were free to use my salary to live a good life?"
He looks so cute and relaxed, I allow myself the tender gesture of passing a finger down his frown. Like he needs soothing, and I'm the one that gets to give it each time .
His attention doesn't waver on me, but a small smile curls his lips.
I sigh. "If I finally went on that vacation I dream of, and got to spend time in a sunny place by the beach. If I got to actually do nothing for a few weeks a year, and I could indulge in all the dresses and lingerie I want, and go out to see my friends in their small town or to the club when you and the guys invite me…"
"A lot of the wives in the league take care of their family, or have their own businesses or non-profits." His words are thoughtful, like we're discussing hypotheticals again. "Would you have your own PR consulting company, rather than still work for the Strike?"
I ignore the way my heart flutters and run my hand over his chest. His body serves as an anchor to all the feelings wanting to bubble up inside.
"I haven't had the chance to think about that," I whisper back.
So why on earth is he thinking about it? Is this idle conversation after an exhausting game day, or is he… thinking about a future when…
No, he can't be. Can he?
Terrifying…
"Mhh. Well, you have time." He kisses me.
We stumble into bed afterwards. I melt into the mattress, his arm around me, and I let my unconscious deal with how fast Logan is taking over my heart.