I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 4: Logan

This is perfect.

My ex-girlfriend from high school is my college roommate. Well, at least for our junior year. Or until she murders me when she finds out how this happened.

For right now, I couldn't have been happier about our setup. Every cell of my body was charged with an excitement that exceeded any kid on Christmas as the days closed in on her move-in date. I knew how crazy I sounded. But I fully intended to take advantage of this golden opportunity.

I mean, look at her. Two years, three months, and the last four weeks here waiting, and here she is.

While I'd put on twenty-five of Coach Hawk's recommended pounds of muscle over the past two years, Ellie looked almost exactly the same except the roundness of youth had left her cheeks. Her long, straight, dark brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and a few stray, delicate strands graced her slender neck and delicate shoulders. My fingers twitched slightly while I resisted an immediate urge to brush them over her ears, so instead I squeezed them into fists at my sides.

Her dark, doe-shaped eyes stared up at me under her thick lashes wide in shock and her full, pale pink lips that mine wanted to reclaim every inch of were parted open slightly. In true Ellie fashion, she wore a gray UW T-shirt and jeans over her small frame.

She's beautiful.

The sight of Ellie in front of me was a bittersweet reminder of how I'd had zero interest whatsoever in anyone else since her. Girls approached me, over and over, but their shallow motivations were nothing but an instant turn-off.

One look at Ellie and I was definitely turned on, in more ways than one.

In other words, I was gone. Again.

I'd taken a two-year break on girls in high school but this time was different. When Ellie and I had dated, sometimes I'd felt guilty about mistakes I'd made with girls before her and that she deserved better. So our freshman and sophomore years, I'd improved on things like my past that now no longer bothered me. The last thing I wanted was another rap sheet of girls selfishly used for my own pleasure that again I felt guilty about later.

Or worse, Kendall-like stalkers.

Ellie herself had ruined a few things in my intimacy department. My broken heart hadn't really healed, only hardened. Physically, two-year drought hadn't been easy and my dick twitched in my sweatpants like an uncontrollable, painful reminder at the first sight of Ellie. As much as I wanted my arms wrapped around her in a warm hug, her frigid stance stopped me. Well, technically the shocked look on her parents' faces behind her stopped me. I'd been in this apartment alone for four weeks for football camp and now that she was here, we had plenty of time for hugs - and much more, if I played this right - later.

Things looked terribly bleak two years and three months ago. The last I'd seen Ellie, tears streamed down her cheeks. She broke up with me, returned the promise ring I'd gotten her that Christmas, and I thought she never wanted to see me again. The look in those eyes, tinted red at the corners from irritation and tired from the confinement hell her parents had put her in, when she pleaded with me for space burned in my memory as the last time I'd seen her in person.

When she'd broken us. Broken me.

While I knew Ellie hadn't felt like herself because of all the legal drama and restraints that her parents clamped down on her life, I was absolutely shocked and dumbfounded when she broke up with me. Sometimes negative thoughts crept in at the idea Ellie wasn't as committed to our relationship, given how abruptly she broke things off, and I would've raised hell against anyone or anything if she'd needed me to.