Football players are assholes. I know; I'm related to their king. My older, and annoyingly overprotective, brother Jake is the star quarterback at Santa Cruz High School. I love him but hate living in his shadow. Everyone worshiping the air he breat...
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Harper flopped on her stomach and bounced my bed. "What are we watching?"
"Like you won't pick the same movie." I rubbed my better-smelling hair with my towel and handed her my laptop. Not surprisingly, Booksmart sat at the top of my Netflix queue.
She gave my screen a firm nod. "Read my mind."
I snuggled under the comfort of my blankets next to her and puffed out an exhale. She radiated warmth, so I snuggled into her side and rested my ear on her shoulder. "You're so predictable."
"I know what I like. Feel better?"
With a flick of my wrists, I tossed my towel at my laundry basket and fell short. "Cleaner, but I need a brain wipe."
Thanks to Logan, my brain was inoperable. Our exchange replayed on a loop like a bad movie that I couldn't leave because I was too invested in the plotline. What the fuck was he thinking? On what planet would any girl have been impressed -his apparent favorite word- with the shit he spewed out of his mouth?
Finally found something at the beach more irritating than the sand, which I couldn't wash off in my shower. Line after line after line. I was surprised my ears weren't bleeding by the time I got in Harper's car. Whoever this Logan idiot was, he wasn't worth the effort to insult him, despite the limitless inspiration he laid out at my feet.
Like I would kiss him. A frog wouldn't kiss him. The way the moonlight cast highlights on his nose and cheekbones and the slight part in his lips painted a tempting picture, but he probably had every kiss-transferable disease. I shuddered.
A date was worse. I couldn't spend another minute listening to that arrogant windbag. He would probably take us to a carnival house of mirrors to admire himself from every direction. "Why are the hot ones ruined by their hotness?"
The exaggerated gasp from the girl who named him Adonis was a bit much. "You... think he's hot?"
"Please, a blind person could sense he was attractive."
"I still think you two had a moment back there. You looked like you wanted to either kiss him or beat his ass into the sand." She turned back to the movie. "To answer your question, they know that they're hot. So, they can and will get away with being an asshole."
By far the worst one I'd ever met. Thank fuck Jake wasn't there to hear any of that shit.
Unless... Logan acted that way on purpose. Why though? He started with genuine sincerity. What a derailment.
It didn't matter. He didn't matter and 'arrogant jerk who thinks lewd statements are charming' wasn't in my plan. I left Logan for the sand crabs and blocked his number. That weird-ass exchange was, done and over, except for the annoying way he burrowed into my brain space and parked his giant butt on my hippocampus. Our interaction shouldn't matter, but it did. A lot. "Ahh." I cupped the pressure mounting in my forehead.
