AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re right. Do you want me to tell him?”
I nod. “You can tell him that he can come and ask me. The first time he asked you and I’m not okay with that. If he wants me to be his fake date then he needs to ask me himself and we need to set ground rules.”
He kisses me on the cheek before walking out saying, “That’s my sister.”
A few minutes later, Logan raps on the door. I reach into my dark walnut-stained jewelry box that my sister, Sarah Jane bought me a few years ago, when she said I was ready for real jewelry. I had two pair in mind so I hold each up to my ear.
“The gold ones,” Logan chooses for me.
I ask, “Why?”
“Because gold matches your complexion.” His smile comes so easy.
I swallow hard as I continue to study each in the mirror. I decide on the diamond studs. They don’t overpower my face or dress. I push through the stem and anchor them in place.
Logan chuckles behind me. “Harper, will you be my fake date for the Stallion Awards?”
“Yes, but this is a one-time favor and you’re going to owe me…BIG.”
He walks over to my vanity. “Okay. Are you wearing a necklace?” I nod. “Do you need help putting it on, so you don’t mess up your hair?”
“Please.” I hold up the thin gold box chain necklace, handing him the ends. His fingers brush against my neck as he fastens it and my eyes close, loving his skin against mine. Thinking about Logan Warren in this way is not good for my heart.
“There. All set. Hagan left to pick up Adalee so your chariot awaits.”
I feel like Cinderella as he opens the door to his Audi and waits for me to get my feet inside. His gaze stops on my strappy heels as he shuts the door and fire erupts inside me.
We park and come to the “Stallion Blue Carpet.” All the athletes walk the carpet like Hollywood actors and A-list celebrities. His hand slides on my back as he whispers in my ear, “Just smile. I’ll handle all the questions.”
Fear licks at the base of my neck and I can feel a panic attack nearing. Lights flash all around and shuttering camera lenses. His hand is warm and comforting, it’s as if he knows I need it to stay in place to keep me grounded. To keep the jitters in my veins at bay.
We pose or just stand there as reporters yell to him.
“Logan, what’s the real reason you passed on the NFL?”
“Is she the reason you’ll be back in a Stallions uniform next year?”
I try to smile but I’m not sure if it will be misinterpreted.
“You were going to be the #3 draft pick, why didn’t you take it?”
“Those close to you say you’ve changed since losing the National Title Game. Is it true and if so how have you changed?”
Oh lord, do not bring up the only game he lost. How crass.
Suddenly, Logan draws me in closer, leans down and kisses my cheek. He says, “For what it’s worth, I’m coming back because I can make plenty of NIL money, get my degree and continue to have fun.”
Did he just kiss me? On the cheek? With cameras?
The reporters attempt to ask follow-up questions but Logan ushers me through the rest of the carpet where we take a few more photos and the last one in front of the University logo.
As we enter the lower level of the of the old coliseum, its been transformed. The old gymnasium is mesmerizing. Blue crystal modern chandeliers hang from the ceiling casting a blue glow over the room. The floor is covered in round tables with white tablecloths and on each is a number. Logan keeps his fingertips on my back as we snake to table number one. Of course, we would be in the front, Logan is up for Male Athlete of the Year.
Nerves get the best of me, as nearly everyone stops to talk to Logan. “Goodluck. You deserve this. I’m so glad you’re staying on campus,” they say with a wink and fingernails dredging over his arm. It’s rude, they have no idea this date is fake. He never removes his hand from my back and when he feels my body start to tremor, he places his other hand on my bare arm and keeps us moving forward.
Both of our parents are already seated, as well as Hagan and Adalee, with blue toile bows adorning the chair backs. Just before we get there, he lightly squeezes my arm. I turn to look at the face of the Kentucky Stallions, the person who would have went in the first round of the NFL draft. His eyes are as beautiful as they are kind. The kind you can get lost in.
“Harper, thank you.” He steps closer and leans down, whispering in my ear, “To answer your question from earlier, when I said you were voluptuous. I only meant that you’re beautiful and the dress looks like God’s seamstress made it especially for you.”
He stares at me for a hot second and I’m speechless. His words tumble in my head and my legs feel like jelly.
Beautiful. God. Especially. For me.
Suddenly, I’m in his arms and have no clue how I got there.
* * *
