Page 13 of Staying Selfless

“What about Ali?” He can’t even mask the stupid grin on his face.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence by spelling it out for you. So, spill. You going to ask her out on a date or what? Make this thing official?”

“Official? No. But a date? Do you think that’s a good idea? I don’t want to freak her out and ruin a good thing.” He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Trust me, Marc. You’re not going to freak her out. See how this weekend in Chicago goes, but yes, I think a date is a great idea. Ali may have said she doesn’t do boyfriends, but she does do dates with cute boys. Remember?” I suggestive nudge him in the arm.

I still find it hilarious how flustered Marc was the second week of school when Ali had a date with a guy from our class. That was my first inclination that something might’ve been going on. It’s weird to think that Marc and Ali have been doing whatever it is they’re doing as long as Eli and I have.

“You’re coming tomorrow, right?” Marc changes the subject. “To Chicago.”

I pop my shoulders in a shrug. “Eli asked me to come. But do you think I should? I don’t want to be a distraction for him with everything going on with me.”

Marc lets out an arrogant laugh. “My sweet, sweet Logan. You clearly haven’t been looking at his stats lately. He has sucked ass ever since you left. I don’t think his game could get any worse than it has been. I know that’s not the reason he asked you to go to Chicago, but it’s one of the reasons I’m asking you to go. EJ needs you there.”

I didn’t realize that Eli had been playing poorly, but it makes me feel even more terrible about the last three weeks, and I know I need to try to make it up to him.

“Then I’ll be there. But I’m riding shotgun. Ali’s short little legs can sit in the backseat.”

I’m not cut out for this Midwest winter thing. My body was not created to handle negative temperatures. Marc is acting like it’s no big deal, but I’m wrapped up like a burrito as we drive through the airport pick-up area looking for Ali’s tiny body in the crowd while my window is rolled down.

We were hoping to get on the road early this morning to be in Chicago by this afternoon, but Ali’s flight from New York was delayed—twice. So, we won’t be there until tonight, but that’s okay. We won’t miss anything.

Apparently, today is just player assessment stuff and meetings for the senior prospects. The real play won’t start until tomorrow.

“There she is,” I tell Marc through chattering teeth, nodding towards my friend. “Can we roll my window up now?”

“Yes,” Marc laughs. “Sorry, I couldn’t see through the frost.”

Marc parks outside of the baggage claim area, putting on his hazard lights as Ali spots his Jeep. Her eyes light up when she sees us, but I think it has more to do with the boy next to me and less to do with my bundled up and freezing ass.

“Logan!” Ali exclaims, bounding over to the car, dragging her suitcase behind her.

I hop out of the car despite the chill, needing to hug my little New Yorker.

“Missed you, Al.” I wrap my arms around her shoulders.

She squeezes her arms around my waist as tight as she can, and somehow her tiny body is able to suffocate me.

“How are you? Are you okay? Do you feel okay?” Ali pulls away, looking at my face, and talking to me like I’m a child.

“She’s good,” Marc chimes in as he walks around the side of his car. “Maybe let’s not talk to her like she’s going to break.”

“Marcus,” Ali beams while looking at my best friend.

“Alison.” He wraps his arms around her for an extremely brief embrace.

It’s funny to watch these two. Their relationship is a little backward. They’re plenty comfortable fucking, but the basic daily pleasantries are still awkward as hell.

“I’m just worried, is all,” Ali says as Marc throws her suitcase in the back of his Jeep. “Logan, you didn’t say a word about how you felt last time, and look what happened. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m worried. And I cannot believe fucking Zac was in your room! I was right across the hall, and I had no idea. I swear to god I would’ve come out swinging on that motherfu—”

“Can we please talk about something else?” I interject, putting my hands up. “I’m going to be okay. Eventually, I will be okay.”

I don’t want pity. I don’t want sympathy. I’m not just some fragile little doll, and I knew people were going to see me that way after my breakdown three weeks ago, but that’s not me.

Marc gives my hand an understanding squeeze before putting his car in drive and taking us to Chicago.

Chapter 6

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