Logan’s lips twitch. “Thanks, man. So when’s your next home game?”
“We have one Wednesday. I’m starting.” Reed’s cheeks turn pink, and suddenly his plate of rice isveryinteresting.
“We don’t have a game that night. Think it would be cool if I come?”
It’s my turn to go stock-still with chopsticks full of noodles halfway to my open mouth. I lift my eyes to Logan and find him shifting in his seat, his own cheeks suddenly rosy. He rubs the back of his neck as his attention pings between me and Reed.
“Seriously?” Reed’s voice is high and boyish. I can’t blame him. A professional athlete just asked if he could come to his junior high football game. I’m shocked too. And worried about what it will do to Reed if Logan promises to show and doesn’t.
“Uh, yeah, if that’s okay?” Logan looks at me questioningly.
“Of course,” I say dumbly. “It’s open to the public.”
That makes Logan’s lips twitch again, the corners curving. “Right. I guess I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I sat with you? I don’t want to look like a creeper and show up to a kids’ game and sit there by myself when none of the kids on the team are mine.”
“Oh,” I say, choking on laughter. “Right. Um, sure, you can sit with me.”
Reed is practically bouncing in his seat beside me, making the floor shake. “You really want to come to my game? You know I’m in eighth grade, right? It’s not going to be great.”
“Neither were mine at that age.” Logan chuckles. “It just makes it more fun.”
Reed shakes his head, his smile so wide it must hurt. “Whatever you say, bro.”
As if the moment couldn’t be more surreal, Logan looks at me and asks, “Do you think I could get your number? That way, I can text you to find out where you’re sitting at the game?”
Reed bumps my knee with his and smothers a grin. My palms grow sweaty.
“Oh, uh, sure.”
And that’s how I end up giving my number to the man I once refused to even share my last name with.
How is this even my life?
twenty
BLAIR
I’m notsure if it’s the rapidly dropping temperature, or if I’m just that nervous to sit next to Logan for an entire football game, but I’m practically shaking. It’s probably the temperature. I definitely didn’t dress for the weather. This is my first actual fall, and I’ve realized my California wardrobe is woefully inadequate for Minnesota evenings in November. This cute sweater I’m wearing in Reed’s school colors? I might as well be wearing a tank top.
Scanning the stands, I watch as groups of people laugh together, none of them shivering like geriatric chihuahuas, because they’re all wearing thick hoodies or puffer jackets. There are parents with signs, kids running up and down the metal bleachers, the thundering sounds of their stomping muffled by the cheery chatter of people enjoying one another’s company.
I haven’t felt this alone or out of place in a while.
I don’t know anyone at Reed’s school. He takes the bus in the morning, and he’s a good kid, so I haven’t had to have any meetings with teachers or administrators. I don’t have the time to be involved in any parent organizations, and I don’t really feellike I’d belong even if I did. If only Adrienne wasn’t busy tonight. It would have been fun to cheer on Reed and Eddie together.
“Blair, hey.”
The deep voice saying my name causes my heart to skip a beat before it takes off at a gallop, and I startle.
“Sorry.” The deep voice attached to Logan Byrne chuckles as he lowers himself onto the bleachers beside me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. I was just lost in my head, I guess.”
He grins at me, and I allow myself a moment to take him in. His gray eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles, and his stubble is a little more pronounced than the last time I saw him. He’s wearing jeans, sneakers, a black puffer jacket, and a beanie. He looks good. And much warmer than I am because he’s lived here long enough to know that the temperature falls drastically as the sun starts to drop.
I can’t believe he actually came.
Logan scans the crowd surreptitiously, and I realize he’s making sure no one has recognized him.
