When I saw him, my face fell.
"You figured it out!" I pouted. He stared at me, confused. "Your jersey," I explained. His pea coat hung open to reveal a yellow 92 on a black background. I frowned. I'd really wanted this to be a surprise.
"Liv, I don't know what you're talking about. It's game day. Always gotta support the black and yellow." I smiled; he hadn't figured it out just yet. "Thank God, though. I thought maybe we were gonna miss the game. I mean, I wouldn't have minded." He winked. "Sports bar?" I smiled hugely and tossed him one of Aaron's sweatshirts.
"This. Under your jersey now." He looked at me, eyebrows raised. "Well?" I prodded. "You can't be covering up your black and yellow at Heinz Field!" His lips parted a little in astonishment, as if not really believing what I'd just said. I unzipped my jacket to reveal my Hines Ward jersey. His jaw dropped and I couldn't stop smiling. Logan looked down at the sweatshirt in his hands and back at me, shaking his head like he couldn't process this whole thing.
"Olivia," he said. His dark brown eyes held something I couldn't describe. His gaze was soft and searching. He moved forward and looked into my eyes once more before pulling me into him. "Thank you," he mumbled into my hair. And I never wanted to leave his grasp. He was warm and soft and I could feel his heart beating where my hands rested on his chest. When we finally parted, he removed his coat.
"Hold this," he said, draping it over my arm. "And this." He pulled of his jersey. And for a minute he stood before me in a white wife beater. The muscles of his arms were more toned than I'd thought. They moved, lithe beneath his skin, as he quickly worked at the sweatshirt. His bare arms disappeared beneath the fabric too soon for my liking and he grabbed his Harrison jersey and put it back on over the sweatshirt, grinning.
"James is gonna be so jealous," he said, tugging me towards the car.
We wound our way through the sea of black and yellow, peppered by an occasional brave away fan in orange, into the stadium. As we were on our way to our seats, he stopped dead and threw his hands in the air.
"They're everywhere!" he exclaimed. I followed his gaze and dissolved in laughter as I saw the Primanti's sign.
"Pittsburgh tradition," I shrugged. "Sorry we're not sorry." He slung his arm around my shoulders and drew me in, kissing the side of my head. And this was right. This was comfortable and familiar and I realized that I really liked Logan. More than I was really comfortable admitting to myself. I grabbed the hand that he had around my neck and linked our fingers together. Logan looked down at me, eyes smiling, and teeth shining.
We climbed and climbed. Fifty yard line. First row of the balcony. I'd begged my uncle for his season tickets. Groveled. It was actually kind of disgusting how desperate I'd been to get these tickets. Uncle Steve finally gave in, but now I was stuck babysitting the terror triplets for free for the next six months. But I knew Logan loved the Steelers. The look on his face when we sat down and looked out across the field made it all worth it. His eyes pulled slowly across the entire stadium until they found the river and the skyline of the city. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide.
"Wow," he breathed, eyes travelling over to land on mine. "Wow," he repeated. Gathering me into his arms again, he thanked me once more. "Seriously, darlin', this is awesome."
At halftime, the Steelers were trouncing the Bengals 21-0. Logan turned to me and smiled.
"Picture time!" he exclaimed, pulling his phone from his pocket. I chuckled and learned into him as he turned his back to the field. Holding his phone out, he took a picture. He brought down his phone and we laughed as we saw that he'd cut half of our faces off.
"Honey," said a white-haired woman behind us. She was wearing a white Roethlisberger jersey. Around her neck hung several strands of black and gold plastic Mardi Gras beads shaped like footballs. "Would you like some help?" She smiled kindly and reached out for the phone.
"Thanks, ma'am," said Logan, inclining his head towards her. The woman snapped the picture but as Logan reached for his phone, she waved her hand at him, a sneaky, knowing smile on her face.
"C'mon, son, give 'er a smooch."
My cheeks burned. I could feel Logan's eyes on my face. The woman's smile swam in my eyes and he came closer to me, as if in slow motion. I looked at him out the corner of my eyes, refusing to face him. His eyes closed and his lips pressed against my cheek. They were warm, soft, welcome. And, holy shit, since when did a press of lips to flesh feel like this? Flashbulbs went off behind my eyes and I was wondering how I could feel this much from a simple kiss to the cheek. The woman snapped the second picture and I felt all my nerves scream as he pulled away.
"Thanks so much, ma'am." He nodded at her again as he took back his phone. He turned back around and pulled up the first picture, sending it to James. He didn't mention the second picture. He took my hand while we waited for the third quarter to start and I was trapped in my brain.
This whole thing…what was it? I'd only known him for two weeks, but it felt like I had known him for months…years? I turned to him, and he was looking around, and the way that he was taking everything in for the first time…he was a wide-eyed child, excited about life, about everything. I looked down at our hands together resting on my lap and my heart felt full. I liked Logan. I liked him a lot. But I didn't want to push anything. I couldn't be sure how he felt about me. Yeah, we'd been hanging out, talking almost every day, but that meant next to nothing. I wanted to talk to him about it, but I wasn't sure how to approach it. Logan squeezed my hand. I came back to reality and his face was bent down, looking me in the eyes.
"Hey, you okay?" I smiled. Now, here, with his hand in mine, things were the best they'd been in awhile. I beamed at him and nodded.
"Better than okay," I replied.
After the game, hoarse and red-faced, we made our way back to the guys' house. Logan's hand on the small of my back guided me to the living room. James was lounging on the couch in gray sweatpants and a black v neck watching Sports Center. Kicking off my Sperrys, I flopped down on the couch next to him. Logan went to put his coat away and James scooted closer to me. Taking my hand in both of his, he affected a dramatic tone, James spoke.
"Dearest Olivia," he said. "Leave Logan and be my girlfriend instead." He pulled my hand up, pressing the back of it to his cheek. "Take me to Steelers games, oh please!" I laughed.
"No thanks. Logan isn't my boyfriend, though." James raised his eyebrows.
"Oh," he said. "So. Wanna go out sometime?"
I laughed. "No, James."
"I thought Logan wasn't your boyfriend."
"He's not."
"Then why not?" James was kind of adorable. He hadn't shaved in several days and was sporting square black rimmed glasses that I hadn't seen before. He had his hair pushed back and the puppy dog eyes he gave me were charming.
"I don't really want to go out with anyone else," I responded. I knew he was joking, but this was getting to be a little too much for me.
"Sounds like he's your boyfriend."
"Shut up, James."
"I'll have a talk with him." He winked. My eyes widened but before I could protest, Logan returned. I gave James a warning glare before turning back to Logan. He put his arm around my shoulders and James raised his eyebrows. He and I shared a silent fight with our eyes. And he sighed. I had won…for now.
Later that night, just before I nodded off to sleep, my phone buzzed. I had a great time today. Can't wait to see you again. Attached was the picture of him kissing me at the game. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my lips and hope in my heart.
