Page 30 of The Playbook

I dialed Grace’s number, hoping she’d answer. It rang a few times before her irritated voice came on the line.

“What the hell do you want, Logan? I thought I told you to leave me alone. It’s almost one in the morning. I swear I’ll block your number."

“Hey, I need your help,” I garbled drunkenly into the phone.

“Are you drunk?” She sounded disgusted.

“Yeah. I am, Grace Matthews. Maybe even a little high. I need a ride. I can’t drive.”

“What the hell do you want me to do about it?”

“Come get me. Please. I’m at Brent’s.” I rattled out the directions.

“Hell no. I’m not coming to get you. Have one of your jockstrap friends take you home or sleep it off there.”

“Gracie, please,” I begged softly. “I really need your help. Come on.Please.I’m going to drive myself home if you don’t come get me.Please come get me.” I had no intention on driving, but I figured it would get her moving faster.

“Logan, don’t you dare drive—”

“Then come get me. I’ll be outside. Get here quick. I think I’m going to pass out.”

I hung up and sloshed some water on my face. I looked like shit. My eyes were bloodshot, and my hair was a mess from Nikki’s damn fingers in it all night.Whatever.I didn’t need to impress Grace. She wasn’t that type of girl.

Stumbling outside, I sank down on the front steps of Brent’s house, resting my head against the railing. I wasn’t sure how much time passed. The next thing I knew, someone was shaking me to wake me up. Prying my eyes open, I saw Grace’s beautiful face staring down at me, concern written across it.

“Come on, Logan,” she coaxed, helping me to my feet.

“Thank you, Gracie,” I mumbled, stumbling along beside her, my arm slung over her shoulders.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she grumbled, staggering beneath my weight. “I might leave you in a ditch somewhere.”

I chuckled. She was so feisty. I knew calling her had been a good idea.

CHAPTER17

Grace

Logan was heavy. I wasn’t sure how we managed, but I got him out to my car and helped him inside. Thankfully, I’d had enough sense to grab a bucket from my mom’s cleaning supply cupboard before leaving just in case he got sick. Vomit all over the car would get me busted for sure. Sneaking out wasn’t something I did. The threat of getting into more trouble was giving me mild anxiety.

“Gracie, why did you cancel on me tonight?” Logan asked as I climbed into my side.

He fumbled with his seatbelt, cursing under his breath. A moment later it snapped back, and he felt around, trying to find the belt again. Sighing, I leaned over him, searching for it.

His fingers were in my hair within seconds, a soft sigh leaving his mouth.

“Mm, Gracie, you never answered me,” he said as I stilled.

I quickly got my wits about me. He was drunk. And high. He was just talking. He didn’t mean any of this. I grasped the belt and fastened it quickly, righting myself.

“Logan, just go to sleep, OK? I’ll wake you up when we get to your house.”

“No, baby,” he murmured. “Tell me why you bailed on me.”

“Well,” I answered, pulling the car onto the street, my heart shaking my insides as it pounded.

Logan just called me baby. I had to keep myself in check. He was drunk. That had to be it. Random terms of endearment were a symptom of it.

“Someonetold my dad I was going out on a date tonight. So, he grounded me. And apparently, they also told him I was seeing Noah or someone else. So yeah. Thanks for that.”

---