I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 70: Logan

I wasn't worried about a transitional state of my and Ellie's relationship but definitely wondered if we faced any adjustments or awkwardness. Apparently, we'd flushed out any uncertainty and awkwardness just as roommates and, once back together, my life couldn't have been better.

And not just from the the daily sex.

Our next week was busy but flew by. Ellie and I fell into our similarly structured schedule where we woke up together, ate breakfast, and I walked her to class. After class, I napped, did homework, went to practice, and enjoyed my evenings with Ellie.

Let's not forget the best part, Ellie loves me.

I wasn't about to break out into a song and dance, or even a romantic poem, but fuck I walked around campus with the biggest ego and lifesized grin that matched. Not even whatever insults and jabs the guys on the team threw at me phased my good mood.

Even though I hadn't physically been with anyone in the past two years, I still had hormones and my left arm was as toned as my throwing arm for a reason. Under the privacy perk from how I lived alone, I tugged myself off in the shower as part of my morning routine, although embarrassingly to a lot of memories of when I was with Ellie.

After we slept together, those two years of repression crashed open my hormonal floodgates. I couldn't get enough of Ellie. If she was in the same room then I had to touch her, or even better kiss her, to the point where she tossed me out of the kitchen because I shamelessly grinded up behind her.

I knew I'd pushed her too far when I grabbed her hand while studying. Ellie studied harder than anyone I knew, rewrote then typed her notes within her own bubble, and I deserved how she kicked me off the dining room table a few times. In my defense, even just the furrowed expression she wore while she did homework or how she tapped the end of a pen against her teeth while I helped her with her Statistics programming rushed the blood down between my thighs.

Despite how often I'd slept with Ellie, which was fucking amazing, I craved more than just the physical release. I craved her. And, even daily, I never had enough. She threw me half-amused, half-irritated looks whenever my hands grabbed at her like a kid in a candy store, giggled when my lips pressed into the side of her neck, and shuddered when my insatiable erections sprung up whenever any part of her body made contact with mine.

If I had any complaint, then it was how Ellie was right in her restless sleep positions. Thankfully she was light because she tossed her entire body around like a bull rider when the bull won the round. Once I woke up after her hand smacked into my face or her foot kicked my shin. She hadn't kneed me in the balls yet but I wouldn't have been surprised. I was suffocatingly hot and some part of me fell asleep from lack of blood flow, usually my lower arm, but if I hugged or restrained her then she stilled.

But if a little lost sleep is the only issue, then I'll take it.

Everything between us flowed smoothly until Thursday night before the Michigan game. Ellie was quiet all day, even quieter after her yoga class with Charlie, and when I asked if she was okay, she was nothing but irritated.

"I'm just tired," she spat out the words and slammed the refrigerator door shut again.

Ellie had stood there, opened the fridge, found nothing, slammed the door, drank a few sips from her water bottle, then repeated the process. I leaned against the kitchen opening and watched with a most likely completely confused expression while I watched three iterations of whatever she looked for.

"What?" She hadn't helped the situation with how her tightly fit yoga clothes hugged her small curves but her dark brown eyes narrowed at me. "Can't I be tired? You and your five thousand daily calories."