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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"Logan," a firm voice spoke over me. "Wake up."
I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. Except for the empty cavern my stomach impersonated and my bladder was full to burst, my entire body screamed for sleep, my left arm tingled, and I curled under my blanket. "Five more minutes. Or maybe fifty."
Mom's voice filled with insistence, "Logan Alexander Hightower, you get up right now!"
A sharp and cold contact struck my face. I tore my eyes open and jolted up to a seated position. A trickling sensation slid down the sides of my face and neck. A blurry version of my surroundings did nothing for my disorientation until Mom came into focus. She stood over me with an object in her hands. I ran my palms over my wet face and blinked open my eyes. "Did you throw water on me?"
I blinked again. Sure enough, Mom stood over me with an empty cup. "I was desperate." She shoved my feet off the living room sofa, not my bed, and sat down. "You wouldn't wake up."
"What happened?" I palmed the sofa myself up to catch my bearings. Living room. I slept on the sofa. Other than tired with a dull ache in my left arm, physically I was refreshed.
Mom checked her watch. "You've been out of it for almost fifteen hours."
I sat up straighter. Did she say fifteen hours? No wonder I had to piss like a racehorse. "The last thing I remember was getting my IVs taken out." I rubbed the bandage wrapped around my tender left arm.
Technically, I remembered everything that led up to that moment. In particular, the bittersweet closeness with Ellie. The whole day was bittersweet, and we ended with ambiguity. She was soft and cuddly before her nightmare ripped away our comfort. I rubbed the back of my neck. At one point, I think I tried to spoon her?
Mom smirked at me and rested one elbow on the back of the sofa. "You don't remember passing out and falling on top of Ellie?"
I did what!? Fuck, did I hurt her? I was one of the biggest guys on the team, by height and weight. My mouth dropped and I stared at Mom. "I fell on her? Is she okay? Did I squish her?" Fuck, I weighed at least a hundred pounds more than her.
Her shoulders lifted but the smirk stayed. "She seemed fine. Even helped me haul your butt in here."
Haul my butt? Ellie was stronger than she looked. "That's embarrassing." I rubbed my eyes and rested my forearms on my thighs.
"I think she'll forgive you." Mom smiled, her eyes flashing like she held back insider information, and she twitched in her seat. "You really don't remember?"
I rolled my eyes at her teasing. "Obviously not."
"She brought you home yesterday," she said. "Together we lugged you to the sofa, where she tucked a blanket around you. It was very sweet. She looked pretty tired and left shortly afterward."
I looked down at my hands. Ellie took care of me? That was a little heart-warming. And by a little, I was really fucking flattered.
Her experience explained why she had such high walls, and why she hated football players, but I had myself to blame for why she wanted nothing to do with me. What she'd been through forced my thoughts in a direction that I hadn't thought about in a long time: someone else's feelings.
