Page 68 of Perfect Playbook

Logan throws the plastic bag in the garbage can.

Ashton glances at his watch. “You said this thing starts at three? We better go.”

An hour later, we’re nearing the end of the parade, a sea of women, and men, shouting for equal pay. Logan shouts louder than anyone. He never tires of chanting, and when I glance over at my boyfriend, a wave of overwhelming gratitude pours through me. Ashton has made his way between us, mostly because both he and Logan have had a lot of women come up to us. These girls lose their sense of purpose to flirt and say hello.

It shocks me how audacious women are. It’s both a goodand a bad thing, I suppose. Audacity is either being bold and willing to take risks or it’s disrespectful behavior.

Thankfully, Logan is good at blowing off the attention. Even though he is, the attention never fails to make me painfully insecure. After all, I was the geeky, introverted baker girl in high school, and my body showed many signs of loving my craft. Nobody here at Golden Sierra quite understands this is something of a Cinderella story. I’ve never been a popular girl. I never won the award for best hair, best smile, or best dressed. I didn’t even get most creative, the title I thought I’d most likely be given in the yearbook. No. I was by all measures invisible. But I’m uncomfortable in the spotlight anyway.

I liked it that way, though, until being with Logan. Now, I wish some of these women would notice I’m here and step off my boyfriend. It doesn’t escape me that many of them are prettier than I am and have better bodies, more charisma. I just hope Logan never notices, too. Even though I think he’d be loyal, I don’t know that much about men. Only that my brothers always told me never to trust them and my mom once explained they’re all out for one thing.

I steal another glance at my boyfriend who has a sign in the air and still chants. “Equal pay! Equal pay!” He’ll be hoarse by this evening.

Ashton skirts out of the way of a young woman who’s been eyeing him and slides in next to me.

“Hey,” I ask. “Mind giving my shoulders a break and holding my sign?”

“Course.” He takes it, and with his reach becomes a walking billboard.

Just then, the one I thought was chasing Ashton actually goes up to Logan.

“Can you sign my sign?” Her sharp, high-pitched voice pushes through the chanting.

“I’m just here for the march today.” He hitches a thumb behind him toward me. “Supporting my girlfriend and all the other women here as a servant to the cause.”

Never once has Logan done anything but ensure every woman who comes up to him knows about me and understands he isn’t available for any shenanigans. At least in front of me, he’s never made me doubt. But it’s a hard thing to deal with all the same. Jealousy works in mysterious ways. It’s a powerful force whether its victim is deserving or not.

Ashton tilts his head in Logan’s direction where the girl insists again on the autograph despite my boyfriend blowing her off politely.

“Just so you know, you have nothing to worry about with Logan when he leaves. He’s as loyal as they come.”

My heart drops into my shoes and throbs along with my feet. “I know.” I keep hoping, foolishly, that he won’t leave.Santa Fe isn’t so far away.

Ashton means well, but this conversation is acid down my windpipe.

And the “fan” just won’t step off my man.

But thankfully Logan flicks a weak wave of his hand in way of goodbye to the woman, turns his back on her, and strides over to me. The march has reached the end, and the crowd around us disperses.

Ashton lowers his arms and my poster along with them. “Damn. Crusading gives me an appetite. You two want to grab some grub?”

Logan’s fingers lace with mine. “I was hoping we’d be alone for the nights we have left. Unless you want to go?” He checks with me but he should already know the answer.

“Let’s walk?” I’m not ready to really face him over a two-top table with worry and sadness still whirling inside me at the thought of him leaving so soon.

Ashton takes the hint. “All right. Catch y’all later.” He hands me the sign. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Sign a petition. Kick somebody’s ass at the White House.”

I laugh. “I wish it was that easy. Thanks for coming.”

He fist bumps Logan and heads off.

Logan drapes his arm over my shoulders. I wrap mine around his waist. I love this man’s waist. It’s firm and ungiving. Solid. Secure. I hang on to him as we walk instinctively toward the same place we always do.

The riverside bench where it all began.

We’re silent down the street splitting the north and south sides of campus. Logan kicks a small pile of red leaves fallen from the maple trees planted to line the main road. “I hope I can fly you out to see me before the autumn leaves are gone in New England. It seems like Boston’s offers are getting heavy.” His gaze is soft on mine. “You’d visit, right?”

I don’t know where my head is at with the thought of long distance. It’s not something I ever thought I could do at the best of times. And now, my dad has been so desperately down lately. My aunt has to go back home soon, and he’ll be totally alone. Am I really going to be galivanting from one side of the country to the next and skip weekends at home for my boyfriend?

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