Logan

We sit at the bar. She’s doing the anxious fidgety hand thing. I’m doing the pull my jacket down thing because I’m hard. Trying to hide all this isn’t fucking easy.

I’m so fucking hard.

I nearly blew it when she pushed her tits against me and they didn’t feel like volleyballs. Even if they did, I wouldn’t have given a shit. All I have fucking thought about for five weeks is her. Not just her tits either. Her sass, the way she keeps me on my toes, the way she challenges me, and yes, her round little ass. But most of all, I thought about the empty hole in my chest where my heart was supposed to be when she told me to stay away.

It may have been possible.

I laugh to myself because, in reality, I would have to move halfway around the world to stay away. It was so fucking bad that I almost agreed to go to my mom’s for Thanksgiving just so I wouldn’t have to see her look at me in a way so truly foreign from her usual look.

“What?” she whispers.

“I wanna hold your hand.” It’s true, I do.

“Logan...” She shakes her head.

“I’m not going to, but I definitely want to.”

She blushes, and I now want to kiss the warmth of her cheek.

I’m fucked. So fucking fucked.

“Well, look who’s back?” Keeka smiles.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine, just fine.” She looks over at London. “This the one who’s got you on the wagon?”

I lean in. “Can you keep a secret?”

“You still keeping mine?”

I nod, and she smiles.

“Then let’s hear it.”

“I used to fuck blondes because they didn’t remind me of her.” I glance over and see London palm her face.

She laughs. “Is that so?”

I nod. “She used to piss me off. Then she grew up and grew on me.”

“Y’all known each other awhile then, huh?”

“Logan,” London whispers. I just ignore her.

“I have no idea what the fuck I wanna do with my life, but I know the five weeks she made me stay away was nearly impossible.” I sit back. “But it’s also impossible for her and I to be together and for her to be able to do her thing.”

“Nothing’s impossible.” Keeka smiles as she puts a club soda and lime in front of me. “What will you have?”

“Pineapple juice?” London asks.

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

She turns and looks at me. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because that girl isn’t gonna say shit. She got pregnant at seventeen, lied about her age to get this job, told Trucker she was twenty. So, he’s fucked if anyone finds out. She’s sworn me to secrecy, and I know she’ll keep mine.”

“Do her parents know?” she asks, then looks up when Keeka sets her drink down.

“Never met my dad, and my mom died when I was sixteen. Been here ever sense. Scandalous huh?”

“I’m so sorry.” London reaches out and squeezes her hand, which is another reason I adore her. She’s genuine. I don’t think she could lie if she had to, which is ironic since she’s into this drama shit. Not to me anyway. I have been used to playing defense when it comes to her and her quick wit. “Maybe you should look for your dad now?”

“He was married. Died in a car accident a few years back.”

London straightens up, and it takes me a minute to understand why.

“Does he have other kids?”

“Daughter about my age. My mom happened to be ‘the other women,’ so there is no sense in trying to find him.”

London swallows hard. “Do you know his name?”

“It’s in a notebook somewhere.” Keeka shrugs. “No sense in upsetting his family. Mom cut ties with him.”

“Do you know where the accident happened?” London asks.

Keeka looks at her oddly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Keeka laughs and shakes her head, looking at me. “Journalism student?”

“I apologize.” London gives her a sincere smile.

London looks very uncomfortable, and Keeka looks, well, like she always does—amused and unaffected.

“No need to apologize, girl. It’s all good.”

“You have a place for you and the baby yet?” I ask, taking a drink.

She shrugs. “I’m good in my studio. Babies don’t take up much room.”

“You know he’d make sure—”

“You know that’s not happening.” She sighs. We have discussed this weekly since I found out. She doesn’t want him to ruin his chance.

London pushes back in her stool. “Excuse me for a minute.”

As she walks away, I watch her to make sure she gets there okay. Lots of fucking assholes in this place.

When she goes into the ladies’ room, I look back at Keeka. “I’m not letting you raise my best friend’s kid in a studio apartment in a shit part of town.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and then she puts her hand on her hip.

“I’m serious. By January, I’ll have something.”

She smirks. “We gonna live together? Now, how will that help Trucker?”

“No, we’re not. And I’m telling you, Trucker would do the right thing.”

“The Trucker you know might. The Trucker I manipulated doesn’t like me all that much.”

“You didn’t manipulate him, Keeks. You fucked up by not telling him how old you were. Clearly, when he found out, he was still into you, literally.” I point to her belly. “That’s on him.” I sit back and let her chew on that.

“When he fucked the others, that was on him, too. I’m not fucking up his life, and I’m not gonna fuck up this kid’s either.” She rubs her belly. “I didn’t know my dad, and I’m just fine.”

How the fuck is this just fine? I ask myself, because asking her would push her the fuck away, and although Trucker is turning out to be a fucking asshole, he’s my asshole.

“Then, what’s your plan?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” A man in his thirties, wearing a cheap, used car salesman-like suit, sits down, and she smiles at him. “How are my girls feeling today?”

She leans over and kisses his cheek. “Hey, Gary, we’re good. Really good.”

She glances at me as he leans over and kisses her cheek and quirks an eyebrow.

Oh, hell no, I think.

I need to get the fuck out of here before I lose my shit. My sister, my mom, Keeka. What the fuck are my plans after the season ends? What is Dad going to do when he finds out I shot down pros? This dick looking at Keeks and her belly like it’s his. Trucker, fucking Trucker, who can’t possibly not know she’s pregnant, but how could he? She’s London’s fucking age.

The noises in my head make me want to run the fuck away, have a drink or ten, or fuck.

“Did something happen?” London whispers.

I stand up and throw a hundred on the bar. “Let’s jet.”

She picks up her drink, finishes it, and nods. “Okay.”

She has some pineapple juice on the corner of her lip. I run my thumb over it, and she pushes her face against my hand. The overwhelming noise that was just fucking my head dissolves and everything goes quiet.

“Logan?” she says, pulling away.

I take my thumb and suck it clean. “Let’s go.”

I opened the truck door, buckle her in, and hold her hand as I’m driving the long way back, hoping like hell it takes forever.

“You’re quiet.”

I glance over at her. The worry in her eyes brings back the noise.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her as I look away.

“Like what?” Her giggle is forced.

“Like something’s wrong with me.”

“Is there something wrong with you?”

A million things.

A million things, and I don’t want her to know any of them.

“Logan?”

“Can you just be quiet?” I ask.

“What?” she huffs.

“Not like that. Just...” I sigh.

“Just what?” The annoyance in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

“There’s a lot of shit going on, London. A lot of shit, and I just need you to...” I let go of her hand and pull my hat down.

“Logan, spill it,” she damn near demands.

“Maybe I can’t? Will that fuck things up?” I don’t let her answer either question. “Of course it will.”

“What the heck just happened? Is it Keeka?”

“It’s life, London, it’s life.” I speed up, no longer wanting to take the long way.

“Got it.” She crossed her arms in front of her and sits back.

“Got what?” comes out harsh.

“I asked you to stay away. I knew that—”

“I’m sorry. I fucked up. But, you know...” Again, I stop.

“No, Logan, I don’t know unless you tell me.”

“I told you all sorts of shit tonight, London. If you need more than that, I’m gonna have to be honest and say I haven’t figured it out.”

She nods as I pull up in front of Lawrinson.

“I like you, London, a fucking lot. You are everything I never wanted.”

She looks at me, confusion changing to understanding, and nods. Then she unbuckles her seatbelt and looks at me. When she leans in, my heart skips a beat. I want to kiss her so she becomes addicted to me. I want her to want me and no one else.

She kisses the side of my cheek then sits back. “I’ll be your friend, Logan, because I like you, I can’t not be around you. But that’s gotta be it.”

I shrug and want to say cool. But it’s not fucking cool.

When she opens the door, logic and reason hop the fuck out, too, and that empty part in my chest is ever present.

“Come to my last game Saturday.”

“Sure, Logan.”

“Come to the party after?”

She shrugs.

“If I’m gonna be kissing on you, it’s with the condition, won’t be any blondes hanging out.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Grasping and needing her to be there, I use anything I can. “Jamie won’t go if you don’t.”

She nods and starts to get out again.

“We’re doing Friends-Giving Tuesday night, too.”

She looks at me oddly.

“Before break. Celebrating Thanksgiving. Calling it—”

She nods. “Gotcha.”

“Will you be there?”

“Sure.”

As soon as she gets out of the truck, she hurries into the building without a glance back.

Under the tree at her place, I was selfish. I may not know everything about myself like I used to, before that got fucked up when Mom and Dad split, so fucked up. But what I do know is I’m competitive as fuck, and her telling me no made it almost a game. Almost.

Over the past few weeks, I missed her, but how could I not? I agreed to look after her and was still doing so when she didn’t even know it. It’s not going to go away either, not when I am staring at her from a distance. Even if I told Maddox I was out. I was done.

Knowing I put a huge fucking target on her hot, little virgin ass made me feel responsible for her, as well it should have. If she knew how many guys I have fought or threatened since that night, she would never look at me again. I fucked up.

Tonight was selfish, too. I want her closer for more reasons than not. I want to protect her, I want to touch her, I want her to look at me the way she always has. In a fucked-up way, I want to show her how fucking good I am so that, when she isn’t under my protection for the next three and a half years, she compares all those fools to me and doesn’t give them a second thought.

I’m such a selfish fuck when it comes to her. And I know I should be kicking my own ass for being so, but how the hell can I stop when I know how much she wants me? She wants me enough she demanded I stay away because she can’t handle it. She wants me so much that she stopped hanging out with her friends because I was there. That kind of attention is addicting.

To say I don’t want to end my last season of football on a high would be a fucking lie. And it’s been my best season yet. The fucking NFL wants me and can’t have me. It feels so fucking good to be sought after. I have been addicted to that drug for years. It has gotten me through a whole lot of hell.

What I didn’t expect was that drug, that high would be multiplied by adding one ingredient to it. One little drop of a girl like London in the seats and the thought of her between the sheets increases that high an infinite amount.

I crave it.

I crave her.

When that realization struck a few weeks ago, and then she blew me off, it weakened me to the point that I showed up here tonight.

I didn’t plan on her looking at me like she did. I didn’t plan on being like a little crack whore, willing to sell my soul to have just one more hit. But when she looked at me like that, those intentions were blown to shit. When she pushed her tits against me, I wanted more. I still do.

I came with good intentions, but I’m sure every fuck who has a couple drinks and gets behind the wheel intends on getting home safe without causing death and destruction.

She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t. It’s a good fucking thing she is in her building now. If she had asked me to fuck her, I would have.

I punch my steering wheel a few times, needing to remember who the fuck I am when I’m with her. I pray God for the strength to continue intervening when I am too weak to walk the fuck away.

She is everything I never wanted, and I need a constant reminder of, no matter how quiet she makes things, it’s not fair to expect that from her.

God help me, help her, because this thing between us is fiery and will damn sure take us straight to Hell.

When my phone lights up with a message, I click on it.

- I forgot. My whole family is coming to your last game. I’m not sure I trust that Lexi won’t blow it...LF

I laugh to myself and think just how fast God works when He’s up against a guy like me.

- I’ll be in student seating with the girls. I hope you kick butt, player...LL

Player?

Game on.