Page 30 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
“What, you deaf, too?” Ashton called out, lining his arm along the back of the booth, tucking Riley closer to him. He glanced at Connor. “What’s his name, again?”
“You expect me to remember?”
“Castle,” Reed supplied. He slowly lifted his head. “Something Castle.”
Ashton rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks, it’s not like it says it on the back of his jacket.”
“L-something. Liam?”
Kyle shook his head. “That doesn’t sound right.”
I was surprised Jade didn’t get upset that our meeting derailed, but when I looked at her again, I found her staring at the boy up front with an almost anticipatory look in her eye. Like she was ready for the showdown between Bobcats and Bulldogs that was surely to come.
Jade handed Riley her phone. “Start recording.”
“Me?” Riley fumbled with it for a second. “Okay, fine, hang on?—”
“I just want to see his face,” Ashton pressed, raising his voice. “Just a glance?—”
“Wow.” The response came from the counter. The boy in the varsity jacket shook his head of blond hair as if admitting defeat. He hadn’t yet turned, but his shoulders stiffened. “I’d have brought a pen if I’d known I’d meet a fan.”
All at once, the airwhooshedout of me. I expected to see an unfamiliar face. I didn’t keep up with rival teamrosters the way Ashton and Kyle apparently did—not even for Brentwood’s biggest competitor. I might’ve known some of the cheerleaders, but definitely not the football players. So when the boy spoke, I was prepared to not know his voice. When he glanced over his shoulder, I was prepared to have no clue who he was.
I was completely prepared to think he was ugly, even. Like all Jefferson Bulldogs were.
I definitely didn’t expect to recognize him.
But there he was, standing at the Expresso’s counter in a red and black Jefferson Bulldogs varsity jacket, fitted like it’d been made for him.
Golden hair. Blue eyes. Perfectly healthy-looking.Alive.
The quarterback of Brentwood’s biggest rival.
Logan.
Logan Castle.
I’ve only had a few moments in my entire life where the world felt like it was crashing down around me. The first time was when my parents told me they were getting a divorce. It’d been in the fourth grade, while we’d been out to dinner, and I’d choked on my spaghetti. The other time I could vividly remember had been freshman year, when Maisie ran crying out of the gymnasium.
And now… this.
Much like how it’d felt in the Brentwood High hallway on the first day we met, the room around Logan and me faded into mere background noise. My brain tuned everything out, because it absolutely could not compute the image in front of me.
Logan, in a Jefferson High varsity jacket.
Logan, responding to being called the team’s quarterback.
Logan, who stood alive and well in Expresso’s despite dropping off the face of the earth.
Ashton made a pleased sound, sitting back into his seat. “Ah, yes—youarea pretty boy. Better suited in tights than shoulder pads.”
Logan didn’t look at me. Not once. His jaw flexed, his gaze locked on some invisible point over Ashton’s shoulder, like if he so much as glanced my way, he’d give himself away. My chest tightened.
What is happening?The words were an echo in my mind, running over and over until they stopped making sense.What is happening?
“I’m flattered,” Logan said evenly, his voice steady despite the storm brewing just beneath it. “I don’t swing that way, though.”
The next person in the coffee line rubbed a hand over his mouth, not quite hiding his twitching lips.
