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 wasn't supposed to happen' was my most common thought around Logan.
Small gray circles underlined his eyes, but his face was relaxed and peaceful. His lips held an adorable smile. I smoothed a few strands of his soft, fine blonde hair across his forehead. "Hey." I nudged Logan's heavy head off my shoulder. He groaned, rolled his neck, and returned his head to my shoulder. We repeated this twice with his eyes closed. His only audible sounds were low groans like he wasn't ready to be pulled out of deep sleep.
I shrugged again and bounced his head. He murmured something inaudible and curled around my side. I started to smile at his big-spoon attempt, but a giant hand landed in the middle of my chest. The base of his palm rubbed my breast while his fingers extended over the other. Temping, but no. "Not a chance."
Logan's deep voice strained with a rasp, but his smile was contagious. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
"Get up." I yanked my sweater out from behind his head, which resumed its position with his forehead pressed against my neck. Heat radiated from his hard head.
"Is that an invitation, baby?" I sighed at what he suggested. "You don't have to say anything to get me up. Just moan in disgust."
"You're done." His collection bag looked full, although the yellow platelets' resemblance to congealed chicken broth was gross.
"Not with you." He slumped down in bed. He couldn't mean those worse. My heart skipped until I noticed his face was pale with a tint of green.
"Logan? I rubbed his shoulder. "Are you all right?" He mouthed 'yeah,' but no sound came out, and his eyes squeezed closed. I patted his cheek and retrieved Jen, cupping my elbows at the sight of Logan slumped over.
"Should he... look that bad?" Was that how Josh looked? He took a two-hour nap, but once awake, his mouth locked on Ava's.
Not a terrible idea if it works. Stop it, Ellie, that's inappropriate. You're also supposed to be mad at him.
Logan was making it difficult for me to stay angry at him. The way I bounced between rooms and donation stations was nothing to the tug-of-war inside me. My entire skull pounded with throbbing pressure. Like a petulant child, my stupid heart pulled my brain out of self-preservation mode, and I hated that. I hated that, and as much as I wanted to hate Logan too, I couldn't. Not when he slumped over with ghostly pale skin.
"No." Jen rushed past me. "Grab some ice water, please."
A rush of blood flow surged in my ears, and I ran as fast as possible. I returned with a cup of ice and another of water to Logan's legs dangling over his bedside. They were so long that his feet touched the floor. A phlebotomist removed his IVs and bandaged his arm. More importantly, his eyes were half-open, and he murmured to Jen. She snapped in front of his glassy eyes and looked at the phlebotomist, who sprinted out of the room.
