Football players are assholes. I know - my brother is their king. Older and annoyingly overprotective, he's the star quarterback at Santa Cruz High School. I love him, but everyone worships the air he breathes and it's suffocating.
After a traumatic...
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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?"
