Page 27 of Necessary Roughness
Logan:I need the three credits for my degree.
Me:You weren’t in class on Tuesday.
Logan:I had a meeting with my coach. The professor gave me the notes I missed. They do that for all of the student athletes. It’s fucking dope.
Me:So I’ve heard.
Logan:Are we still on for tonight?
I gave a start. Despite obsessing about it on Tuesday and Wednesday, I’d somehow forgotten all about our sex date today. A swirling mixture of excitement, anxiety, and anticipation hit me all at once.
I decided to defuse it with a little humor.
Me:Why? What’s tonight?
Logan:…
Me:Oh! You mean our Sex Appointment.
A few rows down, I saw Logan’s upper body tremble with silent laughter. He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair and texted me back.
Logan:Sex Appointment. That’s fucking hilarious. I didn’t expect you to be so funny.
Me:Really? Why not?
Logan:Because, and I’m paraphrasing here, you’re really fucking hot.
Me:Hot girls can’t be funny?
Logan:Not in my experience. It’s one or the other. Hot girls don’t need a good personality because they’re hot.
Logan:But I can’t help but notice you’re avoiding the question I asked.
Me:Oh, right. The sex.
Logan:The sex!
Me:I’m still down if you guys are.
Logan:Fuck yeah.
Logan:Now stop distracting me with your hotness and sense of humor. I want to learn about creative writing and shit.
As I put my phone away, Logan twisted in his seat and gazed up at me. He gave me a quick little wink, then turned back to the professor.
The butterflies in my stomach swirled even faster.
11
Sloane
I was mostly able to focus during class, although it wasn’t easy with Logan’s broad-shouldered frame being directly in my line of sight at all times. He had a nervous habit of running his hand through his hair every couple of minutes, which immediately drew my attention.
I could still remember the way his hair felt between my fingers as we kissed. Most of that night was a blur, but I definitely wasn’t going to forget about that any time soon. And the more I thought about it, the more those butterflies spun in my gut like a tornado.
But that feeling didn’t go away after class. If anything, it intensified when I walked home from campus. I felt overwhelmed with all my classwork, a mountain of work that now loomed over me like a dozen swords of Damocles. I tried on seven sun dresses before deciding that jeans and a T-shirt were fine. I still had three hours to kill before I was supposed to meet them, so I paced around my living room while reviewing one of my class reading assignments.
“Are you going on a date or something?” Morgan asked while making dinner.
