Full Strength

Twenty Four-Lillian ❤️‍🩹

Logan and I had been somewhat stiff ever since the night he'd come into my room. I'd been too embarrassed to let him stay long, but I knew he was still keeping half an eye on me. He now refused to watch any scary shows or movies before bed, and he'd been trying to get me to eat a suspicious amount of kale and cheese, which I knew were supposed to be good for feeling more calm.

I didn't really know why I was having bad dreams. They weren't specific, not like the kind of dreams where you go to school in your underwear or all your teeth fall out. Instead they were just dark and vague, until something came out of the dark to scare me. It was now happening at least twice a week, to the point where I was tempted to go see a doctor about it. I wasn't sleeping well, to the point where Logan sometimes had to nudge me to keep me from drifting off during the day. He was worried, and although I kept pushing him away, my insomnia was getting impossible for either of us to ignore.

Today, I was ignoring all that. I'd taken a nap as an extra preparation, wanting to be able to enjoy the night. Because tonight was the game. The game that Logan and I were attending as supportive fans.

To say I was nervous was an understatement. Aside from all the horrible accidents that Logan could get into, I was secretly worried about the fact that we were going to a game together. For starters, it felt like a date. Putting that aside, it'd been a while since I'd been to a hockey game with anyone other than my mom. Like anyone who had been raised in a hocky household, I knew how to behave at a game: as much cheering, shouting, and banging on the glass as possible. I only hoped Logan was the exact same way, because it can get really awkward really fast if your seatmate has the opposite attitude.

Sliding on the Dragons jersey with KINGSTON across the back in blocky letters, I threw my hair back in a gold clip before walking into the living room. "Are you ready to go?" I asked Logan, reaching for my purse.

He nodded, getting to his feet. My mouth went uncomfortably dry; he looked much too good in jeans. I'd never seen him in jeans, which made sense because they were impractical for wearing around the house. Embarrassed, I swatted away my thoughts. We'd defined our relationship as professional friends. Professional friends don't check out professional friends, even if they are wearing jeans that make them incredibly attractive.

"Still feeling excited?" I asked in the car, partly to distract myself, partly because I knew Logan had been feeling anxious about the game.

He nodded. "It'll be fun."

"And you're still okay with the wheelchair?" While I felt like the wheelchair was the only option for Logan getting around the arena, I had left the choice up to him. He'd reluctantly chosen the wheelchair after realizing that his arms would be dead tired if he tried using crutches all evening.

"Yeah, just don't go really fast then let go," he joked.

"I'll do my best," I said, grinning.

I took a left, and he frowned. "Where are you going?"

"The parking garage I looked up earlier," I said, looking for the sign.

Logan snorted. "No, no, no. Here, turn down that street. I have my own parking space, Lilli. We don't have to park with the commoners."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. The notion of reserved parking had not occurred to me.

"Yeah. Spits us out in the locker rooms and storage areas," he said, taking my phone and putting in the new directions. "We won't even have to walk outside."

"Well now I feel like royalty," I laughed, turning again.

"You kind of are hockey royalty tonight," he reminded me. "Private parking, private seats, a feast so grand that it tastes like it's made solely of grease."