Page 32 of The Playbook

“Drunk or not, I know beauty when I see it,” he said softly, reaching forward and running his fingers through my hair.

A thrill of goosebumps zipped through me at his touch. But I was still pissed at him. And he was still wasted and probably had no idea what he was even saying. He’d gotten me into trouble, and for what? Just because he could? His explanation didn’t make any sense to me. I started to pull away from him, but he wrapped his arm around me.

“Don’t go. Stay with me.”

“Logan, I need to go. My dad is going to kill me—”

“He won’t. We’re eighteen. We’re adults. Besides, Coach is a nice guy. Mostly.”

“Logan, he’ll kill you too. Let’s just get you to bed, OK?”

“Fine. Help me get up. I need to get upstairs,” he mumbled with a slur. “Then you can leave.”

I studied him for a moment before giving in. Once again, I struggled to maneuver his weight beneath mine as we trudged up his stairs. I was breathless by the time we reached his door. Flinging it open, I put in a last-ditch effort to aide him in the journey to his bed. When we got there, I released him, letting him collapse into it.

I noticed he had an attached bathroom, so I went to it and foraged in his medicine cabinet, locating two Tylenols. Filling a cup with water, I went back to his room to find him standing up, swaying, shirtless.

He was glorious. His body looked like it had been carved from stone. Rippling muscles. Abs for days. A delicious V that descended into his low-slung pajamas.

I cleared my throat and moved to place the items on his bedside table. “I got you some water.”

He flopped in bed again. At least he’d gotten his pajama bottoms on before I’d come back into the room.

“Uh, so yeah. I’ll see you.”

“Don't go,” he breathed out. “Stay with me.”

“I have to get home—”

“Screw home. Be bad for just one night. Stay with me. Please.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”Can’t. Won’t. It was all the same.

He sat up and stared tiredly at me. “Then just stay until I fall asleep?”

“Fine,” I sighed, giving in to the curious little voice inside my head and moving to the chair in the corner.

“No, Gracie. Come here. I want to hold you.”

“Logan, our relationship isn’t even in the friend zone. It’s definitely not in the fucking cuddle zone. There’s no way I’m crawling into bed with you—”

“I probably won’t remember any of this tomorrow if that helps.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I grumbled, moving to the edge of his bed and kicking my shoes off.

He opened his arms, and I slid awkwardly in beside him. He didn’t waste any time with pulling me to him. My body tensed as I rested my head on his hard, bare chest. The arm that wasn’t holding me moved so he could twine his fingers through mine, resting both our hands on his stomach. I exhaled nervously as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head before snuggling down against me, the soft scent of his cologne filling my nose.

“We’re going to be good friends, Gracie,” he murmured. “You just wait.”

I didn’t say anything as I lay in his arms. My eyes grew heavy as I listened to the even beating of his heart. As much as I tried to stay awake, I began to drift off. When I cracked my eyes open again, it was nearly four in the morning according to the alarm clock beside his bed. I hastily untangled myself from him and put my shoes back on. I hightailed it out of there, wondering what the hell I’d just let happen.

CHAPTER18

Logan

Iwoke up the next morning with a killer headache. Groaning, I reached over and drank down the cup of water and swallowed the two Tylenol on my nightstand. It took me a moment to realize I had no memory of leaving those things by my bed. Furthermore, I had no idea how I’d gotten home.

With as much effort as I could muster, I willed myself to remember the night before. I drank.A lot. There were flashes in my mind of Nikki pawing at me. And me letting her.

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