Page 155 of Staying Selfless

The drunken escapades Marc has been on this week speak volumes about how invested he was in the idea of a future with Ali. He’s hurt.

“Oh, I’m not talking about moving on from her,” Mary clarifies. “I mean moving on from his hurt feelings. Ali is clearly dealing with some of her own shit right now, but all four of us in this room know their story isn’t over yet. No one is writing those two off.”

Chapter 40

Logan

Eli has only been on the road for twenty-four hours, but man, do I miss him. I need to get used to this feeling, though. It’s my imminent future.

Even though Eli has convinced himself that he’s not going to get called up, I know he will. I can feel it in my bones. He’s too good not to. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried that he hadn’t heard anything yet. The deadline is coming up quickly. NHL playoffs are starting soon.

The college team headed to Massachusetts earlier than they typically would for a road game, but this isn’t a normal away game. This is the game that determines if they’re going to make it to the Frozen Four. So unfortunately for me, I’ll be without Eli until Sunday. And it’s only Wednesday. Pity party for me.

I lock my door and lay back on my bed before texting my boyfriend.

L: What are you doing?

E: About to watch the Raptors game in my hotel room. Zanders’ first time in the lineup tonight.

L: Are you alone?

E: Yeah. Call me?

Just as I’m about to dial him, an idea hits me.

I grab one of Eli’s collared shirts from my closet before slipping out of the T-shirt of his that I have on. I keep the white shirt unbuttoned, cuffing the sleeves a few times, and draping it partway off my shoulder.

I’ve never sent a nude before, and I don’t think I’m ready to. It’s not that I don’t trust Eli to have it, but what the fuck happens in cyberspace between my phone and his? I’m not ready to have an image of my bare-naked body floating around the web.

So instead, I’ll start here. A tasteful nude, if you will, where all the important things are covered up but still alluding to what’s underneath.

E: Baby?

I position myself in the most flattering pose I can manage, with the right lighting, before snapping a picture or two.

Shit, I’m lying. I take about a dozen until I find one I like enough to send.

The winner has my face out of frame, but my collarbone exposed, the swell of my breasts peeking out from the white fabric. My legs are bare, the hem of Eli’s shirt just barely covering the apex of my thighs, showing enough without showing the goods.

I look great.

I look sexy.

I look...hot as hell. Send.

Not even ten seconds later, my phone is vibrating with Eli’s name flashing on the screen.

“Are you wearing that right now?” he asks, his voice deep and slow, sounding like it’s dripping with molasses.

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” he drawls out. “Logan, you look sexy as hell.”

“Thought it would be good practice for when you’re living in Dallas. We gotta figure out how to do this long-distance thing.”

Eli stays silent for a moment.

“Turn your lights off and lock the door.”

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