I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 101: Ellie

I can't believe I told Dad I didn't care if he was dead.

While a small part of me was relieved I'd gotten some words off the heavy weight in my chest, the emotional respite was short lived once I'd unleashed words I hadn't meant. Embarrassed and guilty were understatements of how I'd felt as soon as the words had flown out of my mouth and only increased exponentially since then.

The more time that elapsed between our argument, the more self-preservation kicked in and I turned my attention towards my four upcoming midterms exams. I'd never been more thankful being submerged in my classwork than after my parents left. After I briefly glanced at my phone when Mom notified me they made it home, I ignored the pile of apologies intermixed with a text from Jake that tried to set up a weekly call time and responded only to Jake that I was flexible around his schedule.

Still can't figure out what decent human has taken over my brother's body but that's actually nice.

Words couldn't have expressed how thankful I was at Logan's presence this weekend, both in his unwavered support, judgmental-free listening ears, and much welcomed distractions. I also wouldn't have met Phyllis, Rosa, Richard, Mabel, Ethel, Geraldine, and Agnes. They'd all welcomed me into the aquafloat class like surrogate grandparents, even if they all assumed that I rehabilitated some kind of injury.

After my aqua float class, I felt relaxed and rejuvenated, unlike the exhausted version of Logan that came home with me that night. At 9:30pm, he inhaled a full dinner's worth of food, brushed his teeth, then crashed in bed before I'd even packed up my bag for Monday's exams. Soft snores escaped through his mouth as I tucked the blankets around him and kissed his forehead goodnight.

Logan's slight diversion of aerobics Sunday night led me straight into midterms week, near the end of my day where I happily slipped my earbuds in both ears, hit repeat on my four Stanton Lanier memorization songs, buried my nose in my books, notes, homework copies, everything related to my four classes. My Nutrition and Statistics midterms were both on Monday, Anatomy Tuesday, and Sports Nutrition on Wednesday.

At this point, my hard work all semester had paid off. My nerves were magnified and I felt slightly on edge but nothing like the campus zombies that pulled all-nighters, walked around in their pajamas, with large coffees in one hand and a messy folder of notes in the other.

Logan was on the same wavelength and our plan was that we just took our exams day by day. He had rescheduled two of his Biology exams because they overlapped with his practice times and studied for Biotransport when I remembered I'd forgotten to make his granola bars for his week. So, in a rush, I woke up at the buttcrack of dawn the next morning and made them.

"Oh shit," I mumbled, slipped my Stat Methods binder of notes off my lap, and carried it into the kitchen. While I thought I could've made the granola bars in my sleep, apparently reading my Stat notes was a bad idea because, thirty minutes later, they hadn't come out as expected.

Logan joined me in the kitchen when he heard my curse words and warmly wrapped one of his palms over my shoulder.

"I'm really sorry." I looked down at my hands, which held a tray of crumbled granola pieces that ranged from half a normal bar's size to, well, birdseed.

"It's fine, baby," Logan assured me but the negativity that swirled inside me said otherwise.

It's not fine!

I wasn't sure if almost the whole previous day's worth of studying, upcoming stress from the tests, or unchecked residual feelings from my parents' visit prompted my near-frantic response, but a small rush of panic welled up inside me. "No, it's not! You don't get it, it's like..."