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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That kiss wasn't supposed to happen. None of last night was supposed to happen. Yet, it did. And I couldn't stop smiling while I weaved past pastel townhouses similar to Grace's.
Intel. All I wanted was intel on Logan. What he wanted with me, and if his interest was because of Jake. What I got was a sweet guy who introduced me, weirdly, to his family. Who took every punch thrown in his direction with minimal cockiness. Logan was just a normal, relaxed, ridiculously handsome guy around his mom. I never expected to spend more than an hour with them. But I had fun. Real, relaxed fun.
Euchre was simple and Grace was something else, but Logan was the most pleasant surprise. Grace's stories, like when Logan burned his eyebrows off with his first chemistry set, made me laugh so hard that I cried. He sat back, sent me a few smoldering smirks from behind his cards, and took everything Grace said in stride.
And she roasted him hotter than a charred marshmallow that fell off its stick.
I was disappointed to leave. He looked so ethereal in the moonlight, with pale highlights on those handsome features, and no shadows of being guarded or pretentious.
Until he kissed my neck. For that reason alone, I shouldn't have liked it as much as I did. Tingles erupted where his soft lips lingered, and my body hummed with pleasure, but he shifted. I couldn't explain it. His cocky armor nudged me to give in, like leading a lamb to slaughter. A hot executioner that accelerated my heart and flushed heat through me with one tease of a kiss remained an executioner. The temptation's pull was strong, so strong that only the unknown of why snapped me out of it.
Logan's irritated reaction made hesitating the right decision. Had he shown a sign of personal infliction, disappointment, or sadness, then I would've trusted him. But it was more like he expected me to react a certain way, I didn't, and he got frustrated.
His kiss was more a game than genuine interest. Play along, Ellie. Play with me. I wasn't interested in games and not with Logan, after what Grace told me.
His sincerity surfaced about Brody. True concern flooded his eyes and weighed them with an edge of desperation, which pinched my heart in sympathy. His voice softened to a quiet plea, sourced from an older brother's pure love. That I knew and embraced.
That's why I kissed him, reassurance of my promise. Nothing to do with the way my heart rammed my chest like it wanted to punch through or the damp underwear I sat on. Those physical reactions –despite years since I felt anything remotely close to them– didn't mean anything.
Correction: they didn't mean anything to me. Harper used them to bide her time, but not me. And that wasn't the promise I made to his mom. The drive home wasn't long enough to unpack that conversation, even as it looped on repeat.
Halfway home, the peaceful serenity in the quiet car was interrupted by my ringtone.I smiled at the contact. "Hi, Harper."
"Elle! What the fuck?" Harper's frustration rang out of the speakers. "Were you ever going to call me tonight?"
