I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 91: Ellie

Harper: Check if they're lubricated. Dr. Google says 'maybe' but all that extra friction builds up. Or so I've heard...

me: What do you mean?

Harper: I don't keep partners around long enough to test a 'weeks of frequent sex' theory. Not since... well, never mind.

me: Who??

A few rounds of text bubbles later, she finally fessed up.

Harper: your dickhead brother.

"Huh." My mouth dropped open at that reveal and my fingers tightened around my phone.

me: In two years!? Not even one boyfriend?

Harper: Settle down, Judgey McJudger. You haven't either!

Me: True but you're... like a boy magnet.

Harper: You mean dick magnet.

Harper: No boyfriend since Ryan our senior year, if you want me to be technical.

"Wow," I mumbled at my phone, then just shook my head and slipped it into my purse.

Logan surprised me from the very first step I took into our apartment. The first thing I noticed was the warmer temperature and mouth-watering aroma that I first smelled within the hallway. Once I entered our place, I welcomed the smells of cooked dinner, pulled pork from the crock pot mixed with another aroma I hadn't placed because I gasped at the sight of the dining room table.

The table had two place settings with our full dinner - the pork, couscous with peas, carrots, and sweet potatoes, spinach salads, even mixed fruit bowls. Even sweeter, a vase of yellow carnations sat in the middle of the table and one of the place settings had a white pill bottle, large glass of water, a gallon of cranberry juice, and a bucket-sized container of plain Greek yogurt.

That's... a lot of juice and yogurt.

"Hey," Logan's voice called out from the kitchen, followed by a few bangs, a crash, then a low-tone muttered string of curse words.

"Hey..." One of my hands pressed into the center of my chest, where warmth flooded through me and activated my Ellie-goo status. "You did all this? Thank you."

"Hold the thanks when you see the dirty dishes," was his response, so I walked over to the kitchen entry and hid a round of giggles behind one hand at the sight in front of me.

In less than an hour, Logan had inflicted more damage on the kitchen in the form of more used pots and pans than I usually dirtied in one day. Remnants and leftovers from the plated foods on the table remained in their cooking trays and pans, a stack of empty containers sat in one corner of the counters for leftovers, the stove was overfilled with pots, and utensils had exploded over every available surface.

"I'll clean it up," he promised with a grin and stepped towards me with two glasses of water. "Go to the table, take your meds. The label said take them with food."

"You read the label?" I asked while he literally shoed me out the kitchen, with one leg lifted and his foot nudged my shin.

"Read it, talked to the pharmacist, and got her advice on those." He nodded at the juice and yogurt at my place setting.

"Thank you." I wrapped my arms around his waist, lifted up onto my tiptoes, and pressed a kiss into his cheek. "You're so thoughtful."

"I am." He leaned over my grasp, set the glasses down, then pulled out my chair. "Now, take your meds before I cram them down your throat."