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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"Wait?" I didn't recognize my sharp, dry voice as it hung in the inches of airspace between Logan and me. "What could you possibly have left to say? Should I tell you my second favorite book so you can rip that to shreds too?"
A microscopic crack in his confident exterior appeared. His free hand dragged through his hair, and his eyes dropped to the tip of my nose. With a gentle brush of rough skin, the pad of his thumb rubbed an arc over the inside of my wrist.
"I'm sorry."
My jaw dropped, and my forehead raised. I sucked my lungs full and dropped my eyes to the racing beats in my pulse. "For... being an ass about the book?"
A hearty laugh bobbed his throat and bounced his shoulders. The fluorescent light etched shadows under his cheekbones and jawline, a sharp line to his rounded chin. Amusement enhanced the blue in a soft compliment to his light brown lashes. "That's you making me nervous."
My mouth dropped so fast that my jaw felt unhinged. I... made him nervous? He oozed confidence and arrogance, I assumed he couldn't be capable of being nervous. Could he? Unless... no. No fucking way. It was a front? A downward pressure tugged in my heart at the possibility he was being honest.
Logan's warm laugh tempted me to smile. His T-shirt draped loosely over his waist but pulled snugly over his broad chest. His biceps flexed as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. My arms were spaghetti noodles compared to his cut.
"No." His voice lowered to a soft rumble as if he apologized for a more serious offense. If I didn't know better, his feelings were hurt. "I'm sorry about what happened to you at work. It shouldn't have happened, and it won't again."
"Oh." My voice flattened. "That." Other than ranting to Harper, I'd pushed that incident aside. Its recall was enough to withdraw my hand. Tucked in my armpit was cooler than in Logan's grasp.
Was that why he was here? An apology, in particular in person, was commendable. "Thank you. Excuse me, I need to go bleach your literary critique out of my-"
"That's not all."
The determination in his voice wasn't his usual 'because I get what I want' projection. His normal hardened edge smoothed into an even, simple request. A plea radiated from his gaze, and he gave my wrist a gentle squeeze.
"Give me a chance, Ellie."
The words 'for what?' crept up my throat, but the crack in his voice held them back. Gone was his usual cocky exterior. Encouragement warmed his eyes, and an open, genuine smile played on his lips. It made me want to smile in return if my pulse wasn't pounding in my ears.
His throat tightened as he swallowed. An inward tuck of his lips drew my eyes to where the tip of his tongue wet the seam. "To show you I'm not who you think."
It wasn't as if I didn't know him well. I didn't know anything about him. Being annoying, persistent, my brother's rival, hot, and didn't freak out when I puked on his feet was not a character profile.
