"Ugghhh.... World, I hate you."
Liquid irritation, not blood, flowed through my veins. And it came from multiple sources, including the blood drive coordinator's email. The mental image of one hundred bags of blood drained mine from my face until my cheeks chilled.
Incoherent grumbles and shuffled steps carried me through my morning routine. I fought the urge to pillow-pummel the giant snoring lump on the sofa. Stupid brother and his stupid parties. I grunted at Mom and Dad's good mornings, squinted under the fridge light, and removed a stack of containers.
Stupid Logan antics.
He baited me this whole time.
Rival quarterback retribution pawn was nowhere in my plan. Was any of it genuine? And what the fuck will I say to him? I hated the way my heart quickened at the thought of seeing him. It shouldn't. He was an asshole, and I dodged a bullet. Focus on the blood drive, just forget him. Yeah, because that worked so well at the Meals on Wheels event. A small smile tugged up the corners of my lips. I wrenched it down. No feelings today, Ellie. Food.
I bit into buttery, crumbly goodness. Our search suggested proteins, raisins, and whole grains for a post-blood-donation snack. Last night Mom, Harper, and I replaced sugar with honey and added calorie and Omega-3 boosters like olive oil, flax, and chia seeds in a granola bar recipe. They looked like failed oatmeal raisin cookies, and broken-off crumbles tickled my chin. "Hope they like them."
"If not, then Jake's team will inhale them." Mom smiled behind her coffee mug. "We made four hundred."
I squinted at the only reason I was awake, as quiet and nimble as an elephant in a ballet class. He bounced that elephant-skill-level knee under the kitchen table. "Dad?"
He flipped the newspaper top-down and grinned. "Can't ruin the surprise. It'll be here soon."
Surprise and Dad were never good together. "Mom?"
"I can't imagine," she mumbled, but her eyes screamed, 'Not again,' and her mouth flatlined. "Dale, don't you have enough someday-maybe projects?"
"Yeah." I cupped my chin and rested my elbow on the table. "There's enough weird shit in the garage."
She shot me a dead-eye look. "Ellie, language."
"What? It's weird." Dad's furrowed eyebrows needed an inventory reminder. "Broken violin you thought I would play when I was six? Jake's surfboards? Nappy, water-damaged comics? A Bob-Ross-inspired landscape painted on a saw? The last hardcover encyclopedia set sold door-to-door?"
"Jake uses the surfboards," was the indignant response from the hoarder side of the table.
"Not all eight!" I rubbed my forehead. "Dad, you gotta part with the junk. All it's doing is collecting cobwebs."
Mom smiled behind her coffee steam. It wasn't just the weird shit Dad came across, it was his attachment. No surprise when he said, "Someday maybe, Ellie." There was no point in arguing. By Mom's eye roll, she preferred taking a match to the whole garage and roasting marshmallows while it burned. What the fuck junk treasure was he eyeing this time?
"We'll have to make these granola bars again." Mom bit into an explosion of crumbs. "They came out pretty good, Ellie."
"They do look like birdseed." That was Harper's critique, which I couldn't argue against and popped in my last bite.
"Ellie, remember. Don't touch anyone," Dad warned with another paper flip and extended a can of mace to me. Where had he hidden that? "You sure you don't want Mom to come too? She can sit in the lobby or parking lot the whole time."
Total mortification from a Mom-sitter? No thanks. "I'll be fine. I won't catch rabies." I rolled my eyes but took the mace can that he shook at me. "I'll text updates if you want."
He gave a tight nod. "Don't forget to clip the mace to your pants or hide it in your bra."
"It's for charity!" I wasn't sure if he realized what a blood drive involved. Fuck, I wasn't sure either, but nothing would be stuffed into my bra. In particular, Logan's hands.
After too many 'I'll be fine's, I set the granola bars and my lunch on Jake's back seat. A faint vanilla scent wafted off the leather. Harper's hand lotion was a pleasant alternative to Jake's boy stink. To her disgust, he took a giant sniff of her neck when we hauled him up the driveway.
Not my first drive to Salinas, I knew how to get there, but uncertainty hummed through me the closer I approached. I shouldn't have told Logan the crib notes, but I couldn't take my words back. So, today I would slip into my introverted shell and, like an ostrich, bury my head and pretend I hadn't outed myself. Last night's anger had simmered down, but would Logan reignite it or stir other feelings? Part of me wanted to smack him upon sight. The other part voted that I tackled him and kissed him myself.
"Cleary, I'm insane." I wrenched the steering wheel to a flash of red from my sleeves. Per the email recommendations, I wore a red long-sleeved sweater over black leggings and comfortable shoes. Stopped at a light, I braided my hair to contain it and wished I could tie down my racing thoughts. They weren't distracted by the radio on the drive down, and my heart climbed to a professional racecar pace my heart by the time I passed Salesian High.
"Guess this is it." Despite being football rivals, I slowed down for a first look. The building had high, white stucco walls, a flat gray roof, and minimal landscaping. Smaller than Santa Cruz, I preferred our charming, thick cement columns and red brick... without the painted steps. "Don't think about Grace's house being about fifteen minutes from here," I whispered and gripped the wheel. "It's Saturday, no guarantee that he's there."
Relief and disappointment relaxed my shoulders when I didn't see his truck in the crowded parking lot. A carwash fundraiser was full of skinny high school girls hopping around in bathing suits and sort of cleaning cars while guys gawked at them.
An American Red Cross bloodmobile and 'Blood and Plasma Donation Event today' sign steered me away from the bikinis. Nerves electrocuted my skin on my approach. The lobby filled my nose with a sterile, bleach-based scent, and my shoes squeaked across the floors. A white leather sofa faced a receptionist's desk, white walls, white chairs, and large rectangular white floor tiles. Black framed posters advertised blood, plasma, and platelet donation benefits. I hugged my elbows.
So much white.
I'm afraid to touch anything.
"Eleanor?" A woman with brown hair peered from behind the desk. "Marla and Caleb called in sick. I'm Amy."
Sick? Why hadn't I thought about that? Logan, too? "That's me. I made some, uhh... snacks. I hope that's okay."
"How thoughtful." She smiled and pushed her chair back. "Usually, we aren't allowed to give out homemade snacks, but Salesian's football team is coming today. They can eat our month's supply, so this is great."
"The... whole team?" I looked at her with wide eyes, and my stomach dropped. A team included sixty guys. Did I have enough granola bars? Or, more importantly, enough energy myself? The next five hours morphed into five years. I wiped my hands on my thighs.
"Yes. We're glad you're here. I'll ring Jen." Amy smiled and picked up her phone.
The whole team, including Logan.
I'm fine. It'll be fine. Just like work.
Good cause, Ellie. College application fluff.
A tall, thin woman with brown eyes and blonde hair in a tight, neat bun appeared. "Eleanor? I'm Jen." Her voice was firm but kind as she extended a hand. My palm was clammy, and her eyes shifted to my boxes. "What's this?"
"Eleanor brought snacks to keep the football players from decimating ours again," Amy said. I smiled at her sneaking one out. "Not poisonous."
"Very kind." Jen grabbed the boxes and tipped her head to a narrow, white hallway on our left. She led me to a large room with eight wide, gray leather chairs separated by a small metal table. White plastic curtains hung from the ceiling to an inch above the floor.
I gulped at the needles and empty blood bags on each tray. Oh boy. All those would get filled today. The stations blurred, and dizziness rushed into my brain.
You can do this, Ellie.
Deep breaths.
The more Jen emphasized that I would do only non-blood-related tasks, the more my tense shoulders slacked. Forms and snacks were easy-peasy, with no blood to make me queasy. It was for the best. With my lack of coordination, I would probably drop a pile of blood bags, splattering donated blood all over the pristine white floors and painting the room into a crime scene. I shivered from the prick of goosebumps on the back of my neck.
The donation details slipped in one ear and out the other until she said, "Some of these football idiots like to compete to fill their bags the fastest, which we do not encourage."
Not sure I wanted the answer, I asked anyway. "How?"
"Squeeze their fists to increase the blood pressure to the IV."
And cue lightheadedness. Seriously? She pointed to their set-up snacks with a smile. "And sometimes, they need a talking distraction. You'd be surprised how many of these big, muscular guys become total pansies about needles."
I forced a smile and curled my fingers at the idea of hand-holding. "I'll... try my best."
"Come on." She motioned for me to follow. The next room was identical, except for three larger bed areas, a large silver machine in between, and larger metal trays. "This is our plasma and platelet donation room."
"What is that?"
"Plasma is the liquid part of our blood. It contains the red and white blood cells." She probably explained this all the time but gave me a patient smile. "Platelets are tiny cells in your blood that form clots and stop bleeding. They're used by cancer patients and people facing life-threatening illnesses and injuries."
"Wow." I stared at the machines straight out of a mad science lab. "How does it work?"
"The apheresis machines draw out and collect the donor's blood, then separates the plasma and platelets. The machine puts the platelets or plasma into bags and returns the rest of the blood to the donors."
It sounded like some kind of medieval torture machine. A chill tingled my cheeks from my blood draining out. "Blood comes out, goes through the machine, then goes back in?"
Jen smiled and nodded. "Kind of like an oil change flush, except we put the depleted blood back into the donor. It takes sixty minutes up to two and a half hours, depending on how well-hydrated the donor is. Any more questions?"
Two and a half hours was a long time chained to a bed. I swallowed hard, and my knees swayed. "Is anyone doing this today?"
"Two donors. Normally, we could run both, but one of the machines isn't working. It's important these two stay hydrated, so lots of water and regular check-ups. Both donated last year, so they know the drill. Blood type O is most needed for full blood donations, but both donors are AB. It's one of the rarest blood types but the most needed for plasma."
"Wow." That was so impressive. What generous guys.
Jen's phone buzzed at her hip. "The first guy's here. I'll have the phlebotomists prep their stations. We'll start you on forms in the lobby. Amy has a locked drawer for your purse."
Silence pressed down on me, and fatigue from last night tugged on my limbs on the walk to Amy's desk. Jake's one am call worked against me. He was outside on the back porch area of the party house. Brody was there too. While smaller and lighter than Jake, hauling Brody up to his Dad's front door wasn't fun.
At least I didn't have to pull Jake out of the bathtub, and no Camille drama. He was sketchy on their breakup details, but his and Chloe's relationship was encouraging. Unfortunately, he mumbled incoherent words about mad texts, some weird confession of feelings that made Harper squirm in her seat, and Chloe didn't want to see him anymore. So, he did what any pissed-off, rejected teenage boy shouldn't do – drank himself into a stupor. The stench of alcohol on him was so strong that I drove with his window open.
"Ready, Eleanor?" Jen's sharp voice jolted me stiff.
A jumbled-up heap of anxious nerves fluttered in me. I took the nametag she extended and pressed it to my shoulder. "Yes." Just don't pass out, Ellie.
Passing out was exactly what I wanted to do when I saw the two tall, muscular donors. One had sandy brown hair, a relaxed posture, and a friendly, approachable smile. The other one filled the room's space, sucking out the oxygen with it.
No, I made him the focus. Traitorous beats danced in my chest. A gray T-shirt and athletic pants fit snugly to his muscles. His damp hair was a shade darker. Unless my imagination played tricks on me, his eyes sparkled brighter when they locked on mine. The simple movement sent shivers down my spine. Why was he an instant recipe for jello legs? I curled my fingers around the clipboard, but the sharp press of plastic in my palms wasn't enough to pull me away from those piercing blue eyes. "Logan." My voice sounded hollow, and I wouldn't have known it was mine without the warm hums vibrating my throat.
Heavy sympathy replaced the fleeting satisfaction in his eyes. "Hi, Ellie." He coughed and shifted his weight.
"What are you doing here?" He'd better be donating and not acting on his motives.
His flippant words feigned kindness. "Good morning, Ellie. I'm good, thanks. It's nice to see you here. This is Josh." He pointed to the poor guy looking between us. "We're both donating plasma and platelets today."
Both? Logan was... one of the magical blood fairies. I smiled at the other guy. "Joshua Allen? You're the ten-thirty appointment."
"Josh." He smiled and raised his eyebrows at Logan. I handed him his clipboard with Jen's instructions. He sat on the sofa, probably relieved not to be stuck between Logan and me. The air was thick and uncomfortable, so I grabbed his elbow and yanked him into the hall.
I couldn't have moved him if I tried, but he followed. His eyes skimmed over my appearance as if searching for clues. A shiver tickled down my spine, and my skin tingled where he looked, but none of that mattered today. "Up late partying to celebrate last night's win?"
"No." I tightened the clench of my teeth.
"More Jake's scene, doormat." Despite the tension, he grinned. "He dialed my number."
What now? How did Jake get Logan's number? He called and threatened Logan the morning Grace's house was trashed. Another thing to add to my question list for my idiot brother. Drawing on my Pizza Palace voice, I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't give it to him."
His grin faded. "Fortunately, he probably won't remember what he said."
"I can't imagine." I sighed and hugged my elbows. Knowing Jake, it was threats.
The teasing sparkle reappeared in his eyes. "I'll tell you if you stop blocking my number."
Too far. This was exactly what he couldn't say to me today. He was too good at flirting, and I was too raw with reactions. Josh still sat with his head down over his forms. I sagged against the wall. "Logan, I'm only here for the school thing. Please don't make this more uncomfortable than it already is."
"Ellie." All teasing lightness faded from his expression, and the intensity of blue deepened in his eyes. "About yesterday, I'm so-"
"No," I cut him off. We couldn't talk about it, not without me needing a recovery bed. "I reserve the right to block my boyfriend's number."
Finally, he shut up and blinked at me. His blank look would have been funny if it wasn't for the irritation resurfacing in me. I glared until the realization hit him, and guilt seeped into his eyes, rounding them. He dragged a hand through his hair. "Ellie."
"Honesty, huh?" I dropped my gaze to his shoes. Black with white details were less influential than those beautiful blues shifting to deeper shades with his emotions. "What the heck are you doing here?"
"Donating. Didn't you hear? I'm a rare specimen." His flippant tease hit the top of my head. With no energy to fight back, I pushed out a loud exhale. He leaned his shoulder on the wall I sagged into. "I'm keeping an eye on you. Jake and I agree on one thing. We don't trust you with football players. I assume he's hungover, so I'm here to make sure my team doesn't bother you."
Jake? Him and Jake discussing me was not the mindfuck distraction I needed. Neither was this conversation. "Oh, my gawd." I rubbed my dry eyes, then squeezed them shut and groaned. "You and me for five hours today? I... can't. I just can't. Please, drop the cocky attitude shit. Or better, act like we don't know each other."
I pushed off the wall and called to the lobby, "Josh? Logan, you can sit out there or hang with him. I don't care."
Logan winced as if my words struck him then his stubborn butt took a lobby seat. Great. The weight of his gaze followed me to Josh's room, where I mumbled Jen's instructions and showed him the bathroom. By the time I returned to the lobby, Logan stood with his forms filled out and eyes heavy with an apology. Many, many emotions swirled in me, too many to disentangle, and suffocated my throat with dryness. We couldn't do this today, or any day.
I softened my voice into a plea and spoke more to his form than him, "Logan, I don't think we should see each other again. Excuse me."
He nodded, but the sadness reflected in his eyes hacked my heart in half. I could have forgiven him for the Alex stunt since he'd probably done it before knowing me, but not what he'd done to me. Yesterday he stressed the importance of honesty, which I respected, but using me to fuck over Jake meant he had no place in my life.
Three boys entered in a welcome distraction until I recognized them. I grimaced at the guy with dark brown hair, brown eyes, bronzed skin, and a cocky grin who reclined with one elbow near Logan's shoulder. "Hi, Jackson." I handed him a clipboard. While I mentally beat him over the head with the hard plastic, Logan's gaze lifted to where I folded my lower lip under my teeth.
"Eleanor." Jackson's eyes traced my nametag, and his face broke into an arrogant smirk. Most girls probably found that look charming, but what a sleazebag. "Nice to see you again, gorgeous."
Logan's eyes darkened and shifted to Jackson, which triggered a funny flip in my chest. Oblivious to Logan's eye daggers, Jackson kept his gaze on me. "Do you want to sit on-"
"Jackson." Logan's fingers depressed Jackson's shoulder. His voice was low and even, subtle enough that no one paid attention, but I heard every word. "Do you need to say sorry to Ellie?"
"Elle," I whispered and shifted my weight between my feet. "It-it's fine."
"It's not." His fingers sank deeper until Jackson's jaw clenched. "Apologize, bro."
"For what?" Jackson said with the same cool tone, but a sliver of panic slipped into his eyes.
"Get up." Logan stood with a sigh and towered over him. A warm glow of awe settled deep in me when he flicked his fingers for Jackson to stand. Jackson rolled his eyes but obliged. Logan clapped his hand on his shoulder and steered him to me. "Don't play stupid. You're making her feel uncomfortable." He held out an uplifted palm to me.
"I'm sorry, Eleanor." Jackson rubbed one hand over the back of his other arm. "I shouldn't have grabbed you."
Logan's free hand tightened into a fist. His eyes turned another shade darker like he mentally burned a hole right between Jackson's eyebrows, but he remained silent. Logan standing up for me without his fist smashed into Jackson's face intensified the tugging sensation in my chest. Compared to unhinged anger, his controlled restraint was...hot.
Oh, gawd. Did I really admit that? My heart pounded throbs down between my legs. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt, a swelling of need in the form of tiny blips. I bit my lip at how grossly inappropriate my reaction was, this time hiding a smile.
"Ellie," he spoke softly, and I strained every muscle to hear. A soft brush rubbed my elbow, followed by Logan's warm breath in my ear. "Tell me if anyone says or does anything to you today. I'll keep the guys in line, promise."
I released a shuddered breath. My heart thundered in my chest, strong and steady in my ears. Stealing a look from under my lashes was a mistake because cutting my heart out of my chest would hurt less than seeing the pain in Logan's eyes. "Thank you," I whispered.
Within minutes, all eight donation chairs were full. I settled my eyes anywhere but the seven filling blood bags hanging above the chairs. Jackson's pale face and empty hookup prompted his phlebotomist to wave me over. "Every time I get close, he moves," she said.
"Jackson?" I teased in a sing-song voice and stood at his unbound arm's side. "Do you need me to hold your hand?"
"No," he grumbled with glassy eyes. The phlebotomist steered the needle to the inside of his elbow, which he rolled into his stomach. "Uhh, maybe." I raised my eyebrows until he relented, "Yes."
"Yes, what?" Another teasing voice, deep and familiar, joined in. Near Jackson's knees, Logan crossed his arms and smirked.
"Yes, please," Jackson grumbled. I smiled at the defeat in his voice, slipped my palm under his free hand, and placed the other hand on top.
One of Logan's eyes closed in a wink that threatened to liquify my internal organs. "The JVers are still learning their manners."
I patted the back of Jackson's hand. "Squeeze whenever - oh!" My eyes strained at how his hand suffocated mine. His fingers pinched mine together, and two of my knuckles cracked.
"All done here." The phlebotomist removed his tension band and taped his IV line. "You can let go, miss."
I smiled at Logan, who stood silent. His eyes trailed down to my hands around Jackson's with a look that he agreed with the phlebotomist.
Twenty minutes after I realigned my hand joints from Jackson's death grip, I checked on Josh with water and snacks. A chill tingled my cheeks, and I swallowed. Josh relaxed in bed with his feet up and watched a movie on his phone, unfazed by the two IVs in his left arm. "Umm, hey." I cleared my throat and looked anywhere but at his arm. "Do you need anything?"
"It's not as bad as it looks." He chuckled, pulled off his earbuds, and eyed the snacks in my arms. "Yeah, what do you have?" His politeness was a breath of fresh air, and his eyes dropped to a bag of granola bars.
"My mom and I made granola bars. They're not bad. Don't worry. Your teammates haven't gotten food poisoning yet."
"No one can be as bad as Logan's mom," he joked, then bit into one. "Not bad. If you have any more, I'd eat them, but don't tell my girlfriend because I have to take her to lunch after this."
"Deal. I'm sure you'll find a way to be hungry again in an hour." I smiled, relaxing the ache in my cheeks, and getting halfway to the door when he spoke.
"You don't seem like Jake's sister."
Great, even kids at other schools knew me with that association. "I'm allowed to be something other than Jake Harrison's sister." I fought the urge to grit my teeth at that tired reference, and left the 'despite Logan's efforts' silent. "Despite his reputation preceding me."
"Sorry. My sisters would scream at me for asking that." He gave me a half-grin. "But my only other reference is Logan's girl. He's nuts over you, you know."
That took a turn. "I...." I swallowed. What were Josh's intentions? His relaxed face was kind and absent of any indications that he played with me. "He told me something to that extent yesterday."
His eyes widened. "And you turned him down?"
"Try not to be shocked, but yes." I scowled and crossed my arms.
"Figured he'd blow it." Josh's broad shoulders bounced with his laugh. "Girls fall all over him, giggling and whispering, every day at school. He's polite, but it drives him nuts. My girl Ava tries to set him up, but he turns them all down."
Fabulous. Logan was Salesian's most eligible bachelor. Or ineligible? He was ridiculously handsome, but it wasn't enough. "I'm guessing he didn't plan for me not to be impressed by his... charms."
Louder laughs poured out of Josh, and his face flushed. "Definitely not."
Logan's cockiness lately had been dialed down a notch. I assumed it was because of Grace. Was some of it because of me? It didn't matter. "Josh, there's no way I -"
"Go easy on him." Josh smiled and turned his phone back on. "He'll kill me for saying this, but he's totally out of his element with you."
That wasn't the issue. I fought the hot tears that welled up, blurring his reclined figure. "Let me know if you need anything."
Two and a half hours in, my body screamed for relief. How was I only halfway through? My shoulders cracked when I rolled them, and my feet ached with each step. My eyelids drooped, and faint throbs in my forehead were internal beacons for any source of caffeine I could get my hands on. Most of Logan's teammates were done. I wasn't sure if their good behavior was from Logan's presence, but he kept a respectful distance. His eyes often found me, followed by a wistful smile.
"You're the best, sexy nurse Elle." Bryce inhaled his eighth granola bar. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." A dull ache lingered in my cheeks. "Again, I'm not a nurse."
"Stay." He nodded at the open space next to his chair. "I'd love your sweet company."
I avoided his half-filled bag and his donation arm's fist squeezing and opening. His face was familiar. Steely-blue eyes looked at me like I was one of his inhaled snacks, with curly blonde hair dirtier than Logan's and a square chin. His crooked nose was broken more than once. And his smirk gave a total player vibe like he mentally undressed me. Harper's Mr. Hip-thruster. My lips parted for a sharp breath. I wasn't as snarky or quit-witted as her while putting meatheads in place. Hopefully, Bryce was nice one-on-one. I shifted from one foot to the other. "Why is your team here?"
"We do it for Coach Williams." His grin faded. "His wife had cancer and needed a lot of blood transfusions two years ago, so now we do an annual thing."
"Oh, gosh." I cupped my aching cheeks. "That's awful. How generous of you guys."
"If you tried a little harder, Eleanor." His resurged grin prompted my vomit reflex. "You'd find that some of us can be pretty generous."
Gross. He couldn't seriously - "Elle, is this guy giving you a hard time?" Logan's voice behind me brought a few waves of relief. His calling me Elle was distant and cold like he put my walls back up for me.
"Just fishing for info, bro." The cockiness in Bryce's voice and his suggestive smirk made my skin crawl.
"Fish in another pond, bro." Logan's hand met one of Bryce's bulky shoulders.
Never had I been more flattered to be referred to as a pond and gave Logan a tiny smile. After one more trip around the room and a sleeping Josh, I stopped at the receptionist's desk.
"Almost done with the team," Amy whispered. "The afternoon donors include some cheerleaders from the car wash across the street and regular donors."
Great. The girls who chase the team. "Thanks."
Four hours in, my body had moved from tired and worn out to numb autopilot movements, and I exhaled through puffed cheeks. Ache spread from my shoulders to hips, which wasn't relieved when I stretched my arms overhead.
"Why don't you take a break?" Jen asked. "We have another volunteer coming in."
"I'll check on Josh first." I returned her smile. "I think he fell asleep again."
"Are you talking about my Josh?" A female voice joked from behind me. "Is he sleeping on the job?"
Two girls with stunning beauty blinked at us. The blonde with a ponytail and dazzling, flashy blue eyes smiled, but the one with straight black hair shining like glass gave off a vibe to burn me on the spot. With toned arms, cropped shirts that exposed their toned stomachs, and tight black leggings, they were cheerleaders. Their long, slender legs made me an Oompa Loompa. "Is one of you Ava? I can walk you to him."
The blonde spoke up. "I'm Ava, his better half."
I returned her flashy smile with my tired version. "He's said so many nice things about you." His Ava confessions were adorable. Reinforced by her proud posture and sharp blue eyes scanning over me, she called the shots in their relationship. "Are you donating today?"
"Kendall is." Ava pointed to the evil-glare girl. "For Logan."
For Logan? I handed her a clipboard, which she took with a look to put me six feet underground. "This way, Ava."
"Are you a junior?" she asked. "I don't know you, and I know everyone at Salesian."
"I don't go there." Josh's head tipped back, and a drool line ran down his chin. "Is that your guy?"
"Oh, shit. Yes." Ava giggled into her hand and walked to Josh's bedside. Her fingers weaved into his hair, and she peppered kisses across his face.
I excused myself to get Jen. "Hey, Josh is awake."
She cradled her desk phone in her ear. "Check if he needs some fluids. He might be a little woozy, but it's Mister Hightower's turn."
In Josh's doorway, my hand flew to my mouth and hid the smile that crept over my face. He and Ava now made out. Hands, lips, and probably also teeth clashed. He was fine, which meant it was the next donor's turn: Logan's.