Third and Long: A Sports Romance

Third and Long: A Sports Romance by Caitlyn Maxwell Page B

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Authors: Caitlyn Maxwell
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heart?”
    “Yeah. It’s a boring story,” Gwen says, grabbing an banana off the counter. “Remind you of something?”
    “Oh geez Gwen. And no. It’s a bit small.”
    “Go on,” she says, her eyes lighting up.
    I disappoint her by avoiding the thing she really wants to hear about.
    “The thing about my mom is that she had a scholarship. She was going to be a doctor. That first summer home she reunited with my dad. Couple of hot nights later, she was pregnant and school was a distant memory.”
    “Fucking hell Tam. No wonder,” she says.
    I leave out some of the worst details. No need to bring down the mood that much.
    “So yeah, I don’t have much time for boys.”
    “Shame. They aren’t all like your dad. You’re missing out,” she says.
    “Oh yeah? What am I missing out on?”
    “You’ll find out. When you fuck Logan, you’ll find out,” she says.
    “That’s not going to happen Gwen. We decided to be friends. Besides I don’t even think he likes me that much. I know how fast he moves with girls, and he didn’t move very fast with me last night.”
    It was only one kiss after all.
    Gwen rolls her eyes hard. “You idiot. He’s moving slow because he likes you. If you were some random girl, he totally would have banged you last night.”
    Not sure that makes me feel better. I get off the couch to grab a cup of coffee. If Gwen hadn’t ninja ambushed me, I’d be two cups deep already. Meanwhile I’ve got two books to read and annotate today. It’s Saturday, so surely I can’t count on The Party Girls to get anything done with our project.
    I let myself take a break last night, and it was nice, but it was nothing serious. I can’t be. Getting wrapped up with Logan is the first step toward slipping down a dangerous path. Next thing I know he’ll be calling me up every day. At that point I’m no better than the do-nothing Party Girls.
    “Shit,” Gwen says.
    The creamer mixes with my coffee as my roommate corners me in our tiny kitchen. The look of her horror on her face makes me think someone died.
    “You’re not going to like this,” she says.
    Taking a deep breath, I brace myself and look at her screen. She has the South Texas Dirty pulled up. I wonder for a brief moment what they’re saying about Logan now. Then I realize that they publish all the time, and there’s only one person who Logan was with last night. They never report on girls like me. But there it is. The headline.
    1 WEEK AFTER COACH SCOLDS HIM, LOGAN OLIVER III OUT LATE WITH NEW SLUT.
    “New slut?” Gwen asks. “What the fuck! I wish you were a slut!”
    Thanks Gwen. The picture shows me stumbling out of the Marquise Steakhouse. My face is blurry enough. The average person wouldn’t recognize me and they don’t have my name. It really does look like I’m stumbling shitfaced out of the restaurant.
    “It was the heels! I couldn’t walk in the heels!” I scream.
    Gwen gives me the side eye. “I saw you last night. You stunk,” she says.
    “Okay I drank a little too much wine, but still!”
    I’m mad. Quietly, I walk into my bedroom, and Gwen knows not to fuck with me right now. She thinks my rule about staying away from boys is crazy. So nice to have my rule validated so quickly.
    Running shoes, running shorts, tank top, hoodie. Time to hit the track.

 
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    Logan
    When Coach Ainsworth called me into his office, I thought for sure he’d be giving me kudos for getting in an extra practice with Cam. Instead he sat me down and gave me a long winded lecture about optics that ended with him showing me another headline on the South Texas Dirty. Coach isn’t the kind of guy that follows the gossip blogs. The boosters on the other hand—and it’s the boosters that keep everyone like him employed around here.
    I told him it was an innocent date. I didn’t even get drunk. We only kissed, and I took her home.
    In the end it doesn’t matter if Coach believed me or not because his point is the same one

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