Page 173 of Becoming Selfish

Marc and my dad roll their eyes at my possessiveness. I call it protectiveness.

“Baby, you got the timer and the score?” my dad calls out to Mary, and she nods in response. “Yellow, you’re on offense first.”

I walk over to Logan, who is standing next to my aunts and stepmom as she takes her beanie off and throws her hair up in a ponytail.

“Eli, I don’t know if I can do this,” Logan begins. “This is too competitive.”

“You’ll be fine.” I run a gentle hand down her back and over her red shirt. “You have Marc and me on different teams. We’ll help you out,” I tell her, trying to sound reassuring, but she doesn’t look convinced.

“Mary, tell her she will be fine,” I say to my stepmom, needing some backup.

“Logan, you’ll be great. Half of these guys are all talk when in reality, they totally suck.”

“Mary!” my dad calls out. “I heard that!”

“Not you, babe!” Mary yells to my dad. “You’re the best one! Number one fan over here!” She slyly shakes her head with wide eyes while taking another sip of her wine.

I lead Logan over to the huddle of yellow shirts.

“Okay, we’ll start off easy,” I instruct my team.

“Gabe, you’re center, so you’re doing the snap to Logan. Uncle Tommy, this is your route.” I show him where to go on the palm of my hand. “Logan, Tommy is your target. He’s going to be right there. It’s a quick little toss—no big deal. Scotty will be here,” I add to the imaginary drawing on my hand. “And I’ll be here.”

“What about me?” Sam asks.

“Just go long.” Sam is usually the all-time quarterback because he has a good arm, and that’s about it. So, it’s best if we keep him out of most of the plays today.

We line up for the snap, and Marc is covering me. Logan looks scared shitless as she stands behind Gabe.

“Just say, ‘hike,’ when you’re ready,” I tell her.

She leans down behind Gabe and takes a deep breath. “Hike,” she calls out.

I run a few steps forward, but Marc stays with me. I try to lose him by taking a sharp left, but it doesn’t work. He’s still on me. I find Uncle Tommy, who Logan is supposed to throw to, but he’s pretty well covered by my dad.

Looking back to Logan, panic starts to form on her face as she quickly glances between Gabe, Scotty, Tommy, and myself, but no one is open for her. Finally, she looks up the field to Sam, who is deep in the end zone without anyone covering him.

Logan takes a step back, simultaneously cocking her arm, before releasing a Hail Mary to Sam. It’s a long-ass throw and a perfect spiral. My eyes follow the ball until it lands in Sam’s outstretched hands in the end zone.

Sam is standing there with a stunned expression after catching Logan’s pass. Everyone else has gaped mouths and bugged eyes as we turn back to my girl.

I swear you could hear crickets chirping from the stunned silence that has overtaken this group of guys.

“Logan,” I say, filling the void, unable to say any other words. My little tomboy has left me a bit speechless here.

“Sorry,” she quickly says. “He was covered.” She motions to my Uncle Tommy.

“What the hell?” Garrett says, letting out with a deep startled laugh.

Finally, the group breaks out into shocked laughter, everyone just as surprised and impressed as I am.

“Go, Logan!” Mary shouts from the sideline, wine in hand.

“Where did you say your dad played again?” my dad asks, his face in pure shock.

“He was QB-1 for Stanford,” she casually says with a shrug. “We used to play catch.”

“Holy shit!” Scotty chimes in with an impressed smile.

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