That giant sneak.
A few days after Logan resumed contact, I was back at my greasy second home. Not knowing what his angle was, that insistent, devilishly handsome, arrogant football player asshole raised every red flag I owned. I didn't need my 1480 PSAT score to know he used his teammates' phones.
What bothered me was how Logan wedged himself between my thoughts. Not in a positive way, and most often I wondered how he was so fucking delusional thinking I'd be impressed with his asshattery lines, but I didn't like that it was so hard not to think about him. I wiped the counter with enough pressure to remove the stainless steel polish. "Guess that was the whole idea."
I almost passed out from laughing too hard when Logan brought up our date. What was he thinking? Had he suffered too many tackles in camp? The more important question was: why wouldn't he stop? He couldn't have been attracted to me. I puked on his feet, for fuck's sake. The only reason I hadn't blocked his second number was wondering what his real angle was.
Torn between disgusted and wondering if I should be impressed with his tenacity pulsed throbs of a headache. My brain tapped the inside of my skull. He dropped a few casual, 'hi' messages. I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't.
The door chime pinged me out of my thoughts. A huge smile split my face. Positive energy flowed through my tired limbs from the tall, thin boy whose pensive brown eyes brightened behind his circular glasses. One of his hands swept through the messy brown curls falling across his forehead.
"Alex!" My voice chirped higher pitched than I intended, causing me to palm the stainless-steel counter.
The hand not in his hair clenched a black backpack strap over his shoulder. An adorable shade of pink cast over his freckled cheeks. "Hey, Elle. You look..."
"Ridiculous," I filled in with a smile. "How are you?"
"Ahh, good," he replied in a tentative voice and glanced around the restaurant's lobby. "Is Jake here?"
"Nope." My brother didn't know, but he was grounded once he arrived home. Stuck with the company of our parents and Wheel of Fortune. His coach calling was a fun phone conversation I eavesdropped on. I couldn't wait for him to come home to that development. "Your usual?"
Alex nodded and pulled out his wallet. I rang up a small pepperoni pizza and a side salad. He dropped a tip into our jar, which made me smile. How considerate! Again, this was the kind of boy I needed in my life. Genuine, smart, sweet, with no arrogance, and didn't play games. With quick hands, I assembled his salad, tossing on extra bacon bits since at one point he told me, 'There's no such thing as too little bacon.'
He cleared his throat behind me. "Charlotte, Anne, or Emily?"
"How is that a question?" I teased over my shoulder.
Alex and I debated which Bronte sister had written the better novel until his pizza box slid under the warmer. An adorable smile spread across his face. "See you at school Monday, Elle?"
"Yeah." I waved as he pushed open the doors.
A slow, deep sigh escaped my lips. Not that I dated, but if I did, that was a much better-suited guy for me. I was grateful for his friendship. Hundreds of kids pushed past me at school as if I didn't exist. Only my senior class could've remembered Ryder's rumors. And I was very thankful that they'd all forgotten about me and moved on courtesy of my silence and Jake's presence.
The anonymity offered a lonely sense of privacy. While I never asked Jake to intervene, he would've punched out the teeth of anyone who brought up my past. Clearly, but I was done thinking about a particular irritant of Jake's. The door chime interrupted my thoughts. I said without enthusiasm, "Welcome to Pizza Palace... Your pizza is our palace pleasure." Ugh.
"Hi there," a low-toned voice drawled.
Three tall, large-framed guys in black T-shirts and jeans approached. By their rounder, boyish facial features and leaner muscles, they were freshmen or sophomores. Broad-shouldered physiques, confident postures, and high-lifted chins all screamed jocks. This trio wore an air of familiarity. Why? One with ink-black hair, tanned skin close to crispy bacon, and brown eyes approached first. He lowered his phone and looked at me as if I was on the menu.
With my finger over the register, I assumed they had a gigantic order. Yet, again, no fat on them. "What can I get you?"
"I'll take...." Either super confident or the type who didn't take no, his eyes dropped to my chest. "Your number."
I cleared my throat and shoved a silver tray between us. His eyes lifted to my name tag next to a circular piece of pepperoni on my left shoulder. "Eleanor."
The suggestive way he spoke –like he expected me to melt into submission and beg him to call me– and the dark look in his eyes were creepy. I shifted my weight between each foot. "How about pizza?" I pointed to the menu board behind my head. It's not like we had much to pick from - pizza, salads, and drinks. "Since this is Pizza Palace."
"Aww, come on." He leaned his elbows on the counter and gazed at me with soft puppy eyes. "Give me your number. Please."
College, college, college. With that reminder, I bit my tongue. Despite my job's self-deprecating 'take this' socialization, this creep toed the appropriate-inappropriate line. He was lucky Jake was three hours away. "Sure," I said in a dry, bored tone. "Eight-three-one, four-three-eight, five-six-seven-eight."
He pulled out his phone and mumbled the numbers. "Is that seriously your number?"
I rolled my lips in and tapped the counter until he realized that I gave 831-GET-LOST. The area code was right.
Mr. Smooth needed to type the entire number and call it before his brain registered that it was fake. He leaned over the counter and returned my smirk with his. "What's your real number, Eleanor?"
"Lay off, Jackson." One of the guys behind him spoke up. "She's not interested."
"Thank you," I said when he interrupted me.
"She'd rather go out with a real man." Bachelor number two, with polished blonde hair swept off his forehead with enough product to survive a hurricane, shoved Jackson and took his place. "I'm Sebastian."
Why did they get worse when together? It's like they fed off herd mentality. College, college... college? My tired eyes turned to my last hope, a dark-skinned boy with a short fade. His dark brown eyes glinted as he stood back with his arms crossed. While my brain pleaded for him to think with his head above his shoulders, I asked, "Do you want anything to eat, or are you here to irritate me too?"
"Whatever you're into, baby?" His eyes took their tour of my chest, parting his lips and wetting them with the tip of his tongue. "I'm down for."
My false hopes dissolved with a poof. Wait... baby? I narrowed my eyes at that word. Their faces weren't familiar. Not a single block 'S' was in sight, but I asked, "Are you Logan's friends?" Six eyes widened and all three stood up straighter as if I yanked their postures into place. No surprise or confusion hung in their eyes. They knew him.
Guy number three shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and grinned. "I'll answer if you give me your number."
Logan's friends, but he was hours away from here. Did he know they were here? Or worse, sent them? Given their non-committal answers, I asked the wrong question. I should've asked if they were his teammates. Must be losing my touch.
"No." I shook my head. "And if you're not here for something to eat then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
All three straightened up as if I'd mother-scolded them. I guess I had and yes, I looked ridiculous but this was a business and I worked here. After they sobered up the one-sided flirtations, I rang up three large pizzas and sodas. They took the corner table facing the counter. I didn't want or need their attention, so I turned away and restocked the shelves. With my back to the lobby, their gazes burned the back of my head. A glare over my shoulder showed all three looking between me and their phones. Hopefully, I wouldn't end up on some 'worst dressed work uniform' website.
When ready, their pizzas required separate trips. After I delivered the last one, I folded the metal serving tray over my stomach. "Anything else?"
"Your number, love. C'mon." The closest one to me –Jackson?– reached out, grabbed my wrists, then pulled me into his lap. Every muscle that wrapped my spine tensed and I landed with a soft plop. The tray slipped from my grasp and hit the floor with a loud clatter.
"Give me a chance." His hoarse voice washed hot breaths over my ear. I shuddered as his arms circled my waist and he buried his nose in my neck. My skin, which probably smelled disgusting, crawled under his touch. "And I'll give you more than Logan ever could."
Was that line supposed to impress me? And who said I wanted Logan? "No." I winced and turned away. Logan's cockiness turned my brain into mental sawdust, but this guy was next-level creepy. His hands were warm, rough, and very unwanted on my hips. Disgust crawled into my stomach from the way his grip pinned my butt to his thighs. My breath hitched and the hairs on the back of my neck raised from the waves of his hot breath.
I squirmed under his vice hold and gasped when a very-welcome male voice called, "Everything okay, Elle?"
Derrick's gravelly, raspy voice was grumpy music to my ears. I nodded, palmed both my hands into Jackson's hard chest, and shoved myself off his lap. I picked up the tray to catcalls and whistles at my backside and hurried behind the counter.
I threw Derrick my gratitude and ran through the heated kitchen, my feet sliding on the greasy floor. Once in the back, I tossed the tray in the sink. Loud clangs echoed off the stainless-steel sink and tiled walls. Shaky breaths burned my lungs as I steadied my hands on the cold metal edge. My fingers trembled. Not here. Calm down, Ellie.
The more I replayed that scene, a coil wound tighter in my chest. I froze. Again! Why couldn't I react? Fuck, Derrick's intervention got me out of that.
Heat flushed under my skin, which shrunk the room and blurred my vision. I dipped my chin and my fingers traced where his hot breath fanned down the side of my neck. My heart pounded so hard, the beats pulsed against my palm. The sink blurred and made me shut my eyes. My breaths hitched into uneven, ragged pants, and squeezed the oxygen out of my lungs. A lump formed in my throat and my feet swayed.
Derrick's voice was muffled in my mental fog. "Elle?"
"Y-yeah," my weak sounded weak and shallow. I hunched over, palmed my knees, and heaved raspy breaths until my painful heartbeat slowed. "I needed to breathe a little."
"Why don't you take a break," he said in a surprising act of kindness. "I'll cover until you're ready to return."
I blinked my eyes open, then looked up at him with a brief smile. It faded faster than it appeared. He hadn't mentioned a time limit.
Derrick smiled and pointed to the lobby. "Stay until they leave."
My shoulders relaxed as I exhaled low, even breaths through pursed lips. The lightheaded dizziness lifted one breath at a time. Even with a steadier pulse, unwanted stares and smirks between bites were not the attention I wanted.
He popped my relief with, "Clock out. I don't pay for breaks."
My appreciation evaporated in a blink. Of course, he was that cheap. I rolled my eyes. "Derrick, wait" With a steady breath, I pulled down my shoulders and smoothed my hideous shirt. "I'm fine."
His smile contained no amusement. "If you say so, Elle."
Derrick set up his inventory work at the table closest to the counter as a buffer between me and the guys, who talked and laughed as if nothing had happened. I glared at them through averted eyes and only moved them when my phone buzzed with a text. The tension locking me rigid eased when they left with one final smirk but returned with a rush when I saw the message.
Unknown number: Hi baby.
No way that wasn't a coincidence. My blood ran cold, which sent a shiver down my spine. I tossed my phone as if it burned. It rattled on the counter and shut off. With a white knuckle grip on the edge, I heaved a loud sigh.
I had to tell this guy off. He was no better than the losers who had just left. Did he send them to spy on me? To shake me up? I wasn't some toy to play with. Oh, that fucking-
With a shake of red curls, Derrick scowled. "No phones at work, Elle."
"Don't worry," I replied and slid my phone back into my pocket. "I'm done."
True to my word, I didn't call or text Logan back. The number of customers crawled to none, so I stretched out the closing tasks during my shift. Moving dining room tables, cleaning floors and dishes, and restocking were mind-numbing and boring. Thankfully, Harper offered me entertainment. After I shared what happened with the creepy-ass visitors, she responded with suggestive ways to dispose of multiple bodies. The fish cannery was my favorite.
After two uneventful hours, my skin slicked greasier than the traps Derrick and I emptied. I released a slow, defeated sigh when he shut the doors behind us. Surrounded by the darkness, I turned to him. "Would you mind walking me to my car?"
He nodded and punched in the security system code. Not that I expected anyone to jump out of the shadows, and rail-thin Derrick wasn't a beefy security guard, but he was preferable to be alone. Half the overhead light bulbs flickered or burned out.
"I realize ninety-nine percent of our business is high school kids." His red curls bounced as he stepped off the sidewalk curb. "But there's no way I'm letting you walk to your car in the dark, alone after those guys were here."
"Thanks. I appreciate it." While I didn't have Harper's biting words, normally assholes didn't unnerve me this much. Jocks were all talk. Being grabbed by one was unusual. I shuddered at his breath's imprint on my neck.
The parking lot was empty except for our two cars and an army of night crickets. I half-expected tumbleweeds to blow across the pavement as we approached Jake's car. Two glorious weeks of unlimited use were almost over.
My limbs ached, I smelled of pizza toppings and cleaners, and my brain was mushy soup. I was pretty sure I put the salad dressing where the ketchup packets went. "Thanks again, Derrick." I waved and climbed into Jake's car. My phone buzzed as I locked the door. While every other cell of my body seethed with annoyance, I shook my head at another Logan contact attempt.
Unknown caller: Stop hitting on my friends, you tease. 😉
Why couldn't he follow my silent hints? If you can't say anything nice, then the silence was supposed to be golden. I was positive he thought he was charming or witty, but this was tired and ridiculous. "Only you would word it like that," I muttered.
My chest constricted, not from the seat belt I clicked in place. Knowing I was right didn't help relieve the pressure. He knew them. And he thought it was funny? I sure wasn't laughing.
Me: So they were your friends. Big surprise.
Unknown caller: Not friends.
Unknown caller: JV team hasn't learned their manners yet.
"Yeah, no kidding." A scoff escaped my lips as my thumbs tapped the screen. "Who's supposed to set the example?"
Me: You'd better hope I don't tell Jake what one of them did.
Me: The kid might need his arms and legs this season.
Logan paused for long enough that I turned on the car. I scoffed at his response.
Unknown caller: What did he do?
Yeah, right. My nostrils flared on my exhale. He didn't care, probably worried if they revealed anything about him. Logan had himself to blame for any negative impressions I had of him, but I wanted to tell him what happened as much as I wanted it replayed in my head. He had no right to barge into my life. Did he send in mini goons to... what? Shake me up? Tease with my insecurities? Jake warned me about their team playing with girls, but tonight was harassment.
No more of Salesian's football team.
None. I'm done.
Starting with their so-called leader.
With that in mind, one word at a time, I set up my rejection.
Me: You're also lucky that I don't go to your school. Otherwise, I'd also tell all the girls there what you assholes are up to.
As I expected, Logan's response was a tired line.
Unknown caller: I wish you went to my school, baby. I'd make sure that you're the envy of all those girls.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. This wasn't funny anymore, and unflattering.
Me: When are you going to be done with these terrible one-liners?
Unknown caller: Never. Tell me what happened tonight.
Damn texting. It was too hard to gauge the tone. Was he kidding? Did he not know or was he trying to get me to explain it? My lower lip rolled under my teeth, which I chewed on as I left the parking lot. Despite Logan's insistence, I owed him nothing. I wanted to go home, wash off today, and climb into bed without a single thought about football players.
Me: Leave me alone. Driving home.
Logan didn't answer, so I flipped off the phone and focused on getting my tired ass home. Five minutes later, I jumped at the ringtone interrupting the enjoyable silence. I groaned when the car's Bluetooth synced with my phone.
"What did he do, baby?"
The depth in his baritone timber was... soaked with concern and insistence. It boomed out my radio speakers and echoed off the windows. Concern? I didn't have time or energy to digest if that was genuine and squeezed the steering wheel. While he might not have known what happened, his annoying texts were the icing on the cake of unwanted grabby hands and a lap-sitting session.
I opted for my most sugary sweet voice. "Hi, Logan. How's camp? I had such a great day at work until your creepy goon squad showed up. Thanks for asking."
"Ellie." His voice rang through with a 'cut the crap' vibe. "Did one of them hurt you?"
For once, he wasn't teasing. His voice edged with enough irritation to suggest he wanted to punch his fist through a wall. 'Teetering on anger' was a tone I was very familiar with, unfortunately, and I had zero patience tonight for it. "No one hurt me," I relented with a grumble. "Asked for my number. Happy?"
"No." Muffled sounds, a small sigh maybe, rustled out of the speakers.
Was he bothered? Part of me liked the idea I riled up his cocky ass. The realization curled up the corners of my mouth. "Worried about a little competition, Logan? They were pretty cute." In a nauseating, 'don't ever touch me again' kind of cute.
My teasing made him scoff. "I know their intentions," was all he said, but his disapproving tone offered a glimmer of reassurance. "And I'm concerned if one tried to cross a line."
The sincerity in his voice couldn't be faked, could it? Before I appreciated the possibility that he hadn't sent those boys, the cockiness seeped back into his voice, "But with you? No worry, you're too infatuated with me."
I arched my eyebrows at the car radio. "Am I now?"
"Obviously. Don't get in an accident from thinking about me too much."
"Mmm-hmm." I hummed. There were three more lights before I turned for home and I was the only car on the road. "If you say so."
"I know so." His confidence oozed oral sludge into my ears. "I'll prove it to you on our date. You'll be speechless. Again."
And there he goes, right back into irritating mode. My only sliver of appreciation was how my shoulders were no longer wrenched up to my ears. "Better talk to me now then." My tone was as dry as Pizza Palace's crust. There would be no such date but he deserved a bit of teasing in return. "It's going to be a horrible date if I'm speechless and drooling over you the entire time."
"What would you like to talk about?" The sincerity in his voice almost made what I had to say felt, oddly, a little painful... almost. As good-natured as rejecting Jake's friends –okay, Kieran– was, I didn't like to be spiteful or mean.
"Ellie... There are shit rumors about that team. Ones about playing with girls and tossing them aside for points. I don't want you anywhere near that shit."
Guess there was only one way to find out if Jake was right: go directly to the source. "Oh, I don't know..." I blinked away a momentary lapse into remorse. Damn exhaustion. Bait him, Ellie. "How many points am I worth?"
Basic static was his response. Finally, I shut him up, with something neither of us had acknowledged before. It was a hunch, only a guess. A small part of me held out hope that Jake was wrong, so -
Logan's voice thickened with guilt and remorse. "About that."
Wow. That was a total bluff call based on Jake's ambiguity. Fuck, they did have a game with girls! That's - he's. Wow. Wow. A whole new level of asshole exists. My heart sank and I slumped over the steering wheel. Logan wasn't as awful as they came, he was worse. I was nothing more than a challenge, a score. A smash and pass for bragging rights.
Tears stung my eyes but I blinked them away. No. No. I was not going to cry over this asshole.
"It's not what you think," he mumbled. "I don't do it, believe me. I know how it looks-"
"Logan," I interrupted and drew a slow, shaky breath. "Don't know, don't care. You're only another asshole football player who doesn't have the decency to treat girls like they're people with feelings. It's disgusting to reduce someone's worth to a scoring number, for what? Bro solidarity? Bragging rights? Even if you don't play whatever shit game your team has, you enable horrible things to happen to people who don't deserve it."
He was so silent, I wasn't sure if he was still there. I hoped my words sunk in, but they didn't. Finally, he heaved a quiet sigh and spoke in an almost tortured tone, "You're wounding me here, Ellie. I look forward to proving you wrong."
Wounded? Please. His ego was wounded. Logan wouldn't know genuine feelings if I threw a brick pile of them at his crotch. Given he dismissed me calling him an asshole, I wasn't wrong. So, I didn't believe him for a second. I couldn't believe him. Knotted with tension, my shoulders crept up to my ears. "Elle," I spat through clenched teeth. "What the fuck do you want from me?"
"Checking on you, baby." His tone softened to... genuine? No. No fucking way. "My teammates can be assholes. I'm sorry."
I opened my mouth, but he continued, "I'll make sure they don't bother you at work again. Promise." His remorse sounded thick, but his promises were as shallow as he was. I wanted to believe that Logan acknowledged a wrong that required correction. His voice was steady but firm. "You have my word. I'll speak to them Monday, and no one from my team will bother you again."
Good. Did that mean him too?
Blinking was my sole reaction.
Only the captain could... Fuck, he was their captain. That was bad. So, so bad.
His potential sincerity tore my reactions in half. I wanted to give him credit for being sorry and level-headed, but his teammates harassed me under his watch. No, he couldn't control the actions of others, but the captain set the tone and the expectations. His teammates –new ones– were disrespectful for a reason. He was a piss-poor leader and a passively shitty person. My throat ached, and my voice cracked. "You're the captain, aren't you?"
"Yeah," he said in a thick voice.
"Wow." I swallowed hard. Captain was a big responsibility, which Jake took as seriously as the game itself. "I'm disappointed."
"Ellie, I'm sorry. I'll talk to them, promise."
The frustration in Logan's second apology bloomed indifference in me. Thank fuck that was back. "Awww," I gushed in my fakest, syrup-sweet voice, "Are you... worried about me? I thought you only cared about yourself, Logan."
The few seconds of silence answered my sarcastic question. If Logan was concerned, then his protectiveness came from humility. Admirable, but too bad I'd never find out for sure. I'd gotten my answer, what he wanted. Ugly and deceitful, it sickened me. Thank fuck Jake never found out I talked to this jerk.
Logan broke the silence with defeat, "Seems like I don't need to be worried."
"No, you don't. It's none of your fucking business." For his sincerity, Logan deserved to hear the one thing I could acknowledge. "But thank you for the concern."
"Good night, Ellie."
I pulled into the driveway and stared at the phone display. A traitorous smile pulled on my lips. When his voice was sincere, calling me Ellie didn't bother me as much as it had before. Despite his rare display of empathy, now was the time. No, past time. Summer vacation was almost over, and school started Monday. I had one focus, and it wasn't indulging in whatever the fuck these pointless exchanges were.
"Goodbye, Logan."
[ blocked caller ]