I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 12: Ellie

"Ellie, do you really need... all of these?" By the hesitation in Logan's voice, I knew he'd chosen his words carefully. However, he referenced my most treasured possessions.

While most girls had clothes upon clothes, shoes, or electronics, I seemed to have inherited Mom's love of cooking gadgets. With UW's amazing library system, I'd left all my books at home. Unfortunately, with studying, my pile of reading books was smaller than I preferred and most often nonexistent.

"Careful!" My eyes widened at the mandolin slicer in his hands. "That's really sharp."

"So... you brought death equipment," he teased but gently set the slicer down on the counter. What little surface space we'd had was taken up by my crockpot, InstaPot, Ninja blender, dutch oven, pots, slicers, pans, and giant basket of utensils.

"Mom went a little overboard last year," I confessed with a lopsided smile. Sophomore year, when Charlie and I moved off campus into a notably larger apartment, Mom binged on a mini-shopping spree for everything kitchen-related she'd thought I'd needed. "But our kitchen is the size of a shoebox."

"It is really cramped," Logan admitted. He leaned against the back wall by the fridge, which was oddly across from the stove. He straightened up, extended both arms, and easily touched both side's upper kitchen cabinets with his fingertips. My smile widened at the amused look on his face.

"Oh, it gets better." He leaned over and dropped the oven door open, then opened the fridge door and banged them together. "Figured this would annoy you pretty quickly."

"So..." I stared at the doors connected at his shins. Mom had cooked the veggie lasagna last night but I hadn't been in the kitchen much until now. "I have to open and close one, then the other?"

"Pretty much." He closed the fridge then the oven. "That's not the worst part."

My lower lip rolled under and I bit back a smile. "I'm afraid to ask, but what's the worst part?"

"This..." He stepped towards me, slid his hands to my hips, and my functioning ability dissolved when he guided me to face the kitchen cabinets. When he squeezed past me from behind, his body brushed up against my entire body. Since he'd turned sideways, I definitely felt his pelvis pushed into my backside.

Oh my.

I gasped quietly from his warmth pressed against me and how he pinned me into the countertops. The closeness hadn't stiffened my spine like a board, but instead the waves of comfort that radiated from how his large frame wrapped around mine.

From a distance we must have looked like an odd pair, him a 6ft5 pile of muscles and me 5ft2 and 103 pounds, or 110 when the bloat monster visited me once a month. But somehow, we fit. The moment his hands left my hips and his arms wrapped over the length of mine, my body betrayed me. A tiny shiver erupted from between my shoulder blades and goosebumps raised on my skin's contact point with him. In reaction, I stood up straighter and leaned back into him.

"Oh..." My mind drew a complete blank, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled, and my eyes darted from each large arm on the outside of each of mine to the other.

How are his biceps now bigger than my thighs?

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about this when I saw the kitchen." I heard the wicked grin I imagined he wore when he took a step backwards. In one breath, both his palms planted on the counters and his arms caged around my shoulders. The hardness and warmth from his chest pushed further into my upper back as he leaned over.

His breath flowed over my right ear as he murmured, "Not actually as bad as I thought."

"Logan." Now I palmed on the counters and steadied myself against the weakness that flooded into my knees. "I - we can't, we're not -"