Page 72 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

“But what if?—”

“When,” I interrupt, “we have to figure it out, we will. We graduate in May. I have the draft. You’ll head to Germany. Hell, maybe I’ll visit. And then we’ll see where I go. And if your grad school is close, I’ll see you every night. If it’s far, I’ll see you in the off-season and whenever I can get there. And if none of this happens, I’ll see you tomorrow and the next day and the next.”

She steps up on her toes as I threaten to go on and on without taking a breath. Her lips stop me, her kiss soft and sweet, and landing on my mouth the minute I hear someone announce her name as the winner of this year’s pool.

“Promise me you’ll go,” I say again, while we’re still alone amongst the masses.

“I’ll go,” she says. It’s still there. The flicker in her eyes.

And that’s how I know we’re going to make it.

“She’s right here. And yes, she was amazing in bed,” I shout, shutting down any threats to her legitimacy before they start. I’m willing to offer up anything they need, but kissing her hard in front of a room full of jealous geniuses seems to suffice.

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rachel

This shirt has become my lucky shirt. Logan gave it to me after the science awards ceremony, and while the pool prize money was a really nice surprise, I think I still like this shirt more.

JIM AND PAM = PERFECT CHEMISTRY

I’m not sure where he found it, but he managed to gift me a shirt that expressed my love for two of my three favorite things, The Office and chemistry. Thing number one, Logan, I wear every other day of the week.

Claire wasn’t too upset when I decided to move in with him for the spring. And Dante and Jax have gotten a lot better about walking around naked, though I still have the occasional late-night surprise waiting for me under the glow of the refrigerator light. I always tell Logan I don’t see much. But I look. And I see plenty.

“Lucky shirt?” Logan asks, tugging the sleeve. I nod then step up to kiss him. Tucking myself against his chest, I scan one side of the room, wondering how many relatives I have left to meet.

It’s draft day, and Logan is pretty sure where he’s going to land. All signs point to Buffalo, which is, well, very far away from Iowa. But, for the girl who never wanted to drift far from home, I’m finding the prospect of grad school in Manhattan to be very appealing. Less appealing is the six hours by car and eight hours by train standing between us, but it’s more feasible than an entire country and a dozen state lines standing in the way.

“Your mom keeps trying to talk to me about how dangerous it is to travel overseas,” I share after determining the coast is clear.

Logan kisses the top of my head.

“She’s never left Iowa. She’s not really one to talk.”

I step back, surprised at his answer, but his quick nod and lifted brow assure me he’s not joking.

“I suppose this means we won’t get any visits in New York?” I question.

“Not from her,” he says.

I actually quite like his mom, but she can be a bit much. Doses. She’s good in doses. Her anxieties start to bleed into mine when we’re together for too long, and I don’t want to ever be afraid to leave the state of Iowa. Or this country. Especially two weeks before I’m set to pack up my life for six months and immerse myself in all things German.

“How’s your vocabulary coming?” he asks.

“Du bist sehr hübsch,” I manage.

“Wow, that sounded very legit. What did you say?”

“You are very handsome,” I respond. “I think.”

“I’m not sure you need to know how to say that,” he says, leaning back enough to meet my eyes.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I promise.

He shifts to give me a sideways look but quickly relents.

“I know. You love me,” he says. I laugh, letting him swallow me up in his massive arms.

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