The Trouble With Quarterbacks - R.S. Grey Page 0,62

beside Logan as they both smile for the cameras. The room goes hazy as my eyes focus in on an image I wish weren’t real: Melody and Logan side by side on the red carpet, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder. She looks completely gorgeous.

My first instinct is to assume it’s an old photo—I want it to be old or fake or something—

but then rationality sets in. Gotham Hall is in the background, behind them. Melody is wearing the dress she’s got on right now. Logan is wearing the exact tuxedo he had on as I slid down to my knees to give him a blow job a few minutes ago.

I feel sick, truly. My stomach rolls, and nausea threatens the back of my throat. Melody looks at me like she’s deeply concerned as I pull myself together in an effort to keep my embarrassment to a minimum. I have no idea what’s going on, but I know I don’t like it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, reaching her hand out to touch my arm.

I flinch away then grimace at how awkward I’m being. I force myself to glance up at her face, and I ask her a question I’m dying to know the answer to. “Are you and Logan dating?”

The edge of her mouth rises then and she rolls her eyes. “You know how it is. We haven’t gone public. We’re not officially anything, at least not on paper. He’d deny it if you asked him because he’s so ridiculously private about his life. He doesn’t want it getting out to the press.”

He’d deny it if you asked him.

“But you’re his date tonight?” I prod, trying to pin down the truth.

She looks thoroughly confused, as if I’ve got a few screws loose. “Are you sure you’re all right? Should I call someone for help? You look kind of sick all of a sudden.”

I glance at my reflection and sure enough, she’s right.

“Bad, um…champagne, I guess. I’m just going to get some fresh air. I’ll see you out there, yeah?”

And then I grab my clutch and rush out of the bathroom like my life depends on it.

Out in the hall, I try to force myself to calm down. I can’t breathe, not properly anyway. I press my hand against my chest and wonder if these are the initial signs of a heart attack, but no, I realize—these are the initial signs of betrayal.

I consider leaving right then and there. The side hall rounds toward the front of the building, and I could be out on the curb in a few minutes, free from this hell—but I have to talk to Logan. I have to get his side and be mature about this, even though Melody seemed honest and sweet. Even though she had that photo of them arriving together. Even though they look like they’d make the most perfect couple…I have to hear it from Logan’s lips.

I force myself back into the main hall, and it takes me bloody ages to find him. Now that the gala has really gotten underway, the walkways are thick with bodies and I’m annoyed that no one’s sitting in their seats yet. They’re milling about trying to talk to anyone and everyone they can get their hands on. They want to schmooze and network and do whatever the hell else it is rich people do at galas other than donating to the cause at hand.

An event photographer steps close and snaps a photo of the group beside me, the flash momentarily blinding me.

Bloody brilliant!

I push past him and toss back an apology afterward, and then finally, I spot Logan talking with Darius and a few other guys. They’re standing in a thick group, talking and laughing, and suddenly there’s a lead weight in my stomach, keeping me from going over to him.

It’s the last thing I want to do, confront this issue. I want to run for the hills and lick my wounds in private, but I have to know what wounds I’ve got. I’m still utterly confused about what’s actually going on. Did he really arrive here with her? After telling me I had to come early? What the hell is going on?

With trepidation, I make my way toward him. He doesn’t see me even when I’m right on them because I’m so much shorter than the rest of the group. I bet they’re all professional athletes, the lot of them.

I tap him on his shoulder, and when he turns around to face