Page 110 of Wild Catch
All the goodwill that Logan and I earned is being squandered, and there are even people asking for someone to check in on me in case Logan is also violent toward me. And the worst of the bunch are even wondering if perhaps I enjoy it anyway.
I don’t care about that. I just can’t believe how quick they are to judge Logan, when the real threat to other human beings is his creep of a brother. The hand shaped bruise in my sternum can attest to that.
“Not all the comments are negative,” Tom says while he scrolls through them from his own phone. “Certainly the Wild fans are proud of how Logan defended our clubhouse.”
“Yeah, but those are like five percent of all the comments,” I argue.
“But it’s publicity anyway and at the end of the day, that’s what we want,” Dave says with a shrug. “People are talking about him and therefore the team, so basically our job here is done.”
“He’s getting slandered.” I widen my eyes. “And going by what a creep Lewis Kim is, I wouldn’t even be surprised if he planned the whole scene and we just played along like puppets. And you’re telling me we’re not going to do anything to protect Logan?”
Both men give me funny looks that I don’t understand. They should be just as furious as me.
Dave checks his boss’s expression before turning to me again. “Rosalina, I have a questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes?” I frown and fold my arms, annoyed.
“How come you’ve never gotten this incensed when any of the other players get trash talked online?”
I blink.
Dave’s mouth curls dangerously. Worse still, Tom’s expression also turns amused.
“Well, well.” Dave elbows his boss, since they’re sitting on the same side of the table. “It looks like maybe the stunt wasn’t a stunt all along.”
I gasp. And choke.
“Just so you know, I recognize your excellent contributions to the marketing team and I have no problem with you dating a player.” Tom’s voice is grave, yet his cheeks keep twitching. “Just make sure that the other players don’t feel the favoritism.”
“Ugh.” I push away from my chair and stalk to the door.
“Wait,” Dave calls out. “Aren’t we going to talk about you?”
“I can’t.” I scowl at them. “I’m too annoyed right now. I’ll reschedule this meeting for whenever I can be more professional and not get myself sent to HR.”
I leave them to have a really good laugh at my expense, knowing full well that my face is probably as red as beets and that I can’t deny the allegation.
Technically, the stunt was just that. Logan and I never dated for real. But I do have some serious feelings for him. It’s why I’m trying to protect him. And if that doesn’t work—thanks to my middle schooler bosses not giving the issue any importance—then the least I can do is warn Logan. Even if I had vowed to never be alone with him again for my own sake.
I sit to fume in my cubicle for an hour where I achieve exactly zero productivity. Every five minutes I open the text message app to re-read the last communication between Logan and I, half dreading and half hoping for him to cancel at the last minute.
Me
Let’s meet in the parking lot after everyone else leaves
Fake Babe
Roger that
That’s it. Nothing else. And a big gap between my text today and the last time we talked. Almost two weeks.
But Logan doesn’t cancel, and with every passing second my heart rate increases more and more. Players on rest day tend to leave around five, like a normal nine-to-five job, and I wait until half past to start making my way to the exit. By the time I spot him waiting by his bike, in the middle of a nearly deserted parking lot, I can confirm that my heartbeat is one or two points away from a medical emergency.
I slide back into the lobby before he can spot me and force myself to take a few deep breaths. “You got this,” I tell myself, nodding. “It’s just a work-related conversation. You’re not declaring your feelings for the man, here.”
I turn and almost kill myself from fright.
For a second I think it’s Logan standing right behind me but no, it’s just a damn potted plant.
