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...
"Uh-huh." I thumbed over my phone. Ellie had forty-five followers now.
"No, you weren't." Her hand tugged my phone down. "Listen, I won't see you for two weeks."
The upward inflection in her voice at the end of her sentence showed she would never lose her accent, or attempt to coerce me into connecting with our family. I sighed at her one-way street to Mom guilt trip city. "I'm tired. They'll work us hard at camp so I'm going to bed early."
"Fine." A tight smile thinned her lips and she flung a hand at the stairs. "I did your laundry and set out stuff to pack. Don't forget deodorant and extra clean underwear, stink butt. I packed you lunch too."
"Thanks, Mom." I escaped before she guilted me into contacting her over the next two weeks. That lunch was a no-starter. Up in my room, I stuffed clothes piles and a few books in my bags and flopped on my bed.
Last year of camp, last year of high school football. Shit, last year of high school.
A low hum of anticipation awoke in my veins. Some guys slacked over the summer, but not me. With fifteen pounds of added muscle from Mason's grinding, I was ready and excited to see my teammates. They were assholes, but they were my assholes.
"Am I supposed to call you Asshole?"
Fuck, Ellie's gentle voice was dangerous. She was the quiet girl who wasn't initially noticed within a group but should have been. I squeezed the same fingers that touched her face. Why couldn't I let go of that moment? All I needed to know replayed itself as my thumb traced those callouses. Ellie's cheek nuzzled my palm and her eyes closed. Reactive touch and insults for the win.
Problem was, I wasn't immune either. What voodoo magic did that tiny girl possess? I grabbed her wrist and damn near begged her not to ghost me, for fuck's sake. When the fuck had I last wanted to hold a girl's hand? Elementary school, probably.
I dragged my hands through my hair and sighed. My heart flipped faster, a fissure of pressure erupted in my chest, and my mouth pulled into a smile. Harrison's sister. Retribution. I needed a different angle to salvage my plan. She was the exact opposite of impressed with my efforts, but at this point, I was in her head with nothing to lose.
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I woke up in the same state I fell asleep in - tired and frustrated. And I wasn't the only one.
"Here's your phone," Mom spat in an irritated voice. A heavy object landed on my stomach and I groaned. "I charged it for you last night."
What crawled up her butt? I frowned and sat up. "Thanks."
"If what I think I saw in your incoming messages is right, Logan..." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm so disappointed in you."
Paper crinkles erupted as she held up one of my bikini posters. I rolled my eyes when she tore it with a dramatic yank of her fingers.
"For the record, Bryce hung those up." I rubbed the sleep out of my eye corners. She moved on to the next one. "And there's only four... two... zero."
