"LT! LT! Hightower!" voices screamed over and over while I trotted towards the locker room. Flashes of cameras and videos zeroed in on me while I slapped a few hands that the fans extended over the tunnel entrance and stopped for some requested autographs.

"Logan, can I borrow you for an interview?" A voice called with a tapped hand on my shoulder.

I turned from the fan's T-shirt I'd signed to a shorter man with thinning dark hair and excitement in his eyes behind a pair of round glasses. I'd already been interviewed by ESPN, who'd definitely noticed my celebratory point at Ellie. I vaguely answered that I'd pointed at the fans who'd cheered while I'd sat on the bench. Since I recognized this man right away, I stepped away from the tunnel wall and met him halfway over the distance between us.

"Mike Vorell, Seattle Times," he thrust both hands out to me, one with a recorder and the other positioned to shake mine.

"Of course." I shook his hand roughly, then stepped aside from the guys who exited the field behind us. I knew exactly who Mike was since I'd seen him at a few practices and read a few of his articles, one in particular. "Thanks for your pre-season assessment."

I'd attracted a bit of press attention when my transfer here was announced, mostly negative, especially after I was listed within the top-ten players to watch list. Most reporters considered the move redundant once Emmitt was announced as the starter and my backup position was a waste of my talent. Mike was one of the few reporters that took a positive approach and said two solid starters wasn't the Huskies' main concern. While he was incorrect, my ego appreciated how he'd actually predicted that I'd beaten out Emmitt for the starter position during training camp.

"Bit of an adjustment playing here, huh?" He cocked his head slightly sideways and grinned like he knew my answer before he'd asked the question. "What's your impression of Huskies' Stadium?"

"Unbelievable," I replied honestly and lifted my eyes up to the thankfully celebratory atmosphere. "I've practiced here for weeks but to see everyone here, enjoying their Saturday night, and supporting the team, it's been an amazing experience already."

"You came out huge with a pass to Wes Brown but let's talk about adjustments." Since this seemed like it'd be a bit longer discussion, I removed my helmet and lowered my ear closer so I fully heard his questions over the cheers that still rained down on us. "I've said all preseason that you've looked two steps ahead of your own team in practice, how does that translate onto the field for you taking this team through the rest of the season?"

"Look, I know my place." I swallowed that bitter pill on the spot. "I was Emmitt's backup and until we hear otherwise, he's the captain and it's still his team. Tonight was his win, I just finished what he'd started."

"Fair enough." Mike frowned slightly since I hadn't taken his bait for confirmation that I'd taken Emmitt's spot. I actually knew nothing about his condition other than he and Charlie hadn't returned to the sidelines, which wasn't a good sign.

"That said," I felt like I had to toss him something. "Defense played great, the special teams were on point. We have some adjustments that we'll practice on but offense got the job done. Tonight's win was big for the conference and the kind of statement we wanted to make early."

"Love the positivity, good luck this season LT." Mike shook my hand again, then I thanked him and was the last team member who trailed into the locker room.

The post-game locker room was a mix of subdued pride and excitement. Hand after hand patted my shoulder or chest, or gave me a fist bump. I wore a tight-fitted smile, happy for the win but not at Emmitt's expense.

"LT." Wes slapped me right between the shoulders. "Great game."

"You too." I returned his fist bump as my knuckles pounded into his. While I ripped off my skin-tight black gloves, I added, "Makes it easier when you run your full speed."

I mostly meant the words mostly as a compliment and was glad Wes threw me a crooked grin in return. Wes, along with Seth and the tight end Reese, had made the quickest adjustments for sure, but the offensive line definitely needed some improvements before we gelled as an offensive unit. That said, no one could take away tonight's win which, like I'd told Mike, was big for the conference and the kind of statement we wanted to make early.

During high school games, I'd always seen field developments two-to three steps faster than the opposing school's defenses. Whether a stumbled step from a linemen, extra push in a receiver's stance off the line, or a gridlocked tight end, I saw and used all of them to my advantage.

College football players had faster reaction times, which meant I had less cerebral reaction time but the entire game I'd felt like I'd waited an extra second before the rest of the guys caught up.

Not a problem, just something to work on down the season because, once we click, it's going to be magic.

"Quiet down and huddle up!" Coach Peterson's voice carried over the hum of conversations and calmed us down. "Game ball tonight, one hundred and fifty-six yards passing and two TDs, nice work for eleven minutes' play time, LT."

At the cheers and head nods of approval from the room, I nodded silently and walked over to where Coach Peterson stood. A huge grin split my face as my hands closed around the ball he extended towards me.

After a team prayer that included well wishes for Emmitt's recovery, we broke for post-game celebrations and guys' discussions of their plans tonight filled the locker room. Just like after the UCD games, I looked forward to decompressing quietly at home and ignored any and all talk of which parties the guys planned to hit up tonight.

"LT Hightower?" A feminine voice rang out through the testosterone-thick ruckus.

I turned from where I stood half-dressed at my locker to a tall, thin girl with blonde hair that tumbled to her shoulders and blue eyes that looked straight at me. With one hand, she swept her hair over her left shoulder and my eyes traveled to the white press ticket attached to the lapel of her black jacket for a moment.

"Lydia Kemp, U-Dub Dawg Pound." She thrust the same hand straight at me, completely unphased by the fact I was naked waist-up. If anything, her eyes flashed with interest probably since I was the locker room's fresh meat. "Few minutes of your time, please?"

"Uhh, sure." I wiped my sweaty and dirty palm on my pants, then shook her outstretched hand, which was soft but limp in my grasp. "Logan."

Her head cocked slightly while her eyes studied me carefully. "Is that the name you'd like us to print in the post-game recap?"

"Whatever you want." My shoulders lifted slightly. I turned back to my locker and, despite how I was definitely a little sweaty, slipped on my post-game white undershirt so I was respectful.

When I turned back around, her eyes were cast down but quickly flipped up to mine. "Can I ask you a few questions? It's about your first win for the Huskies."

"Emmitt's win," I corrected her quickly with a slight frown. "The whole team played well but I think the bigger story is whether or not he's going to be okay for next week's game."

"You're the quarterback who drove over the Ducks' defense like speed bumps," she pressed with a smile.

"And our defense held them scoreless after every shift I played on the field." I crossed my arms over my chest. The last thing I wanted was to be placed on some kind of fucking pedestal like I was the team's saviour, so I lifted my inside hand and counted on one hand's fingers, "The facts are we'd led the game when I took over. Special teams were tight, defense was skin-tight. I hadn't lost the game for us but I'm only one guy and the whole team deserves the credit."

"How humble." Her mouth twitched like what I'd said amused her, but she kept her recorder on. "Sad to be the one to inform you Logan, but you're the news interest story."

Isn't she annoyingly persistent.

"Fine," I relented because I felt otherwise she'd never let up. "Let me shower and get dressed, I'll meet you outside the locker room."

I waited until Lydia moved on to Kade, who looked at her like he'd have spilled his deepest secrets if she asked. I wrapped a towel around myself, then removed my pants and shirt, locked my locker, and moved into the showers.

Thankfully, the locker room was cleared out of reporters by the time I'd showered and dressed quickly. I loosened my dark purple tie, a preseason present from Mom, over my gray dress shirt and slipped on my black suit coat.

The dark, cool night air hit my still-damp hair but the rest of me practically sweated in my suit layers. Despite the shower, my body radiated heat so I made a mental note next time I'd try a cold shower. UCD was a lot casual about post-game clothes, which was an improvement over the formal monkeysuit that already suffocated me.

"Logan!" Lydia bolted straight for me, her black boots clicked on the cement sidewalk, and her hair bounced with her long strides. My attention was drawn over her shoulder, where the girl that I preferred I spoke to stood off to the side of the locker room exit with a kid and an older man.

"Anything else you need to ask me?" I took in a slow breath and tried not to follow the twitches in my legs that wanted to walk over to Ellie.

Thankfully, Lydia got right to her point, although I wasn't a fan at all of it. "I'd like to do a personal interview at some point, would you be up for that?"

My eyebrows lifted while I asked, "Personal interview?"

Her eyes flashed with a level of interest that I wasn't comfortable with. "You know, let the U-Dub campus get to know the real Logan Hightower, the man behind the helmet."

"I'm pretty boring." I laughed slightly and adjusted my bag over my shoulder.

"That..." Her lashes fluttered, she stepped closer, and rested her hand on my closest bicep. "I find hard to believe. Like who did you point -"

"Lydia Kemp." Even in the early fall evening, I felt the slight chill from Ellie's voice directed at the reporter. Her eyes, though, burned a darker color while she stared Lydia down, even from her smaller height. "Still pretending that you write and report for a real newsite?"

At my probably dumbfounded look, Ellie's eyes shifted to me and she explained, "She has a gossip blog, so unless you're interested in what frat party to hit up tonight and in which case I'll see you later, I wouldn't recommend giving her too much Logan."

"Ellie Harrison," Lily's tone turned twenty degrees colder. "Why are you here again? Third wheeling for Wes Brown and Charlie Montgomery?"

"Actually, I'm with someone who wanted to meet Logan," Ellie retorted bitterly. Her arm slipped across the shoulders of the young boy who stood next to her.

"Not now." I turned away from and ignored Lydia, who thankfully huffed and walked away.

The boy with Ellie looked up at me with wild, short black hair, a nervous smile, and a face that suggested he was about eight or nine years old. Flattery tugged in my chest at how he wore a Huskies jersey that hung down to his knees but proudly displayed the number ten across the front.

"Hey man." I knelt down to his eye height and held out my fist for a bump. "Did you enjoy the game tonight?"

"I did, LT." He barely touched his fist against mine and looked at me with wide eyes. "You played awesome."

"Thanks." I chuckled and briefly caught a completely different expression on Ellie's face. Her earlier irritation had washed away into a soft, warm smile. Even in the dark evening with overhead lamps as the only source of light, her eyes shone down at me.

"This is Julian." Her slender fingers tapped his shoulder. "He sat behind me and told me he's your biggest fan."

"My biggest fan? So that number ten is mine, not Wes Brown's?" I looked straight into his brown eyes. He nodded silently, then turned around and showed my last name on his shoulders. "Woah, that's awesome. I'm so glad to meet you, Julian."

"Can you... sign my jersey?" He asked quietly.

"Sure, but I don't have a -" I started when somehow, Ellie thrust a sharpie at me from inside her purse. I gave her a wink then scrawled my signature with '#10' on his number one then 'Thanks Julian! Go Dawgs!' over the zero.

After Ellie took a few pictures of us and Julian's uncle, who'd brought him to the game for his birthday, I was surprised when she stuck around for a few more fan-based exchanges. Every person after Julian had an opinion on our offensive struggles and of course asked about Emmitt. I stayed tight-lipped because I still knew nothing but his lack of a reappearance and the subdued locker room environment both suggested that his condition wasn't good.

"Hey listen." Ellie cocked her head back and looked up at me once the last pictures had been taken. A tired smile played on her lips but concern was obvious in her eyes. "Have fun but just remember the respect rule, don't bring anyone home tonight."

Say what? Where does she think I'm going?

"What do you take me for, Ellie?" I stared down at her. "All I want is for my ass to go back to the apartment, eat, and crash. Preferably with you, but if you have other plans then I'll probably just go to sleep."

"Oh... I just meant, I thought -" She looked down, then slightly away. "I saw your umm, pile of papers on the kitchen counter."

"Papers..." I mumbled absently while we walked to my truck in the parking lot, then remembered I'd taken out all the phone numbers girls had stuffed into my pockets before I'd done my laundry. "You mean all those numbers from the pep rally?"

"Yeah." Now she definitely looked embarrassed, since she tipped her head down until her hair cascaded over her like a privacy curtain.

"Then I hope you saw when I threw all of them into the trash." I rested one hand on her shoulder and stopped her walking. She kept her gaze down, so I slipped my hand under her chin and redirected her attention up to me.

My heart skipped a few beats when her beautiful face came into view, but I assured her, "There's only one girl here, or anywhere, that I'm interested in. And I already have her number."

"Harper?" Her voice sounded like she teased, but the relief was obvious in her eyes.

Her suggestion released a low chuckle from me and I shook my head. "I think we both know that girl would tear me apart, starting in one particular anatomical area first."

While my thumb absently outlined the soft skin of her lower lip, a tightness pulled into my chest and the back of my throat dried out. I meant every word when I told her, "I'm more thinking of a short, beautiful brunette who's always had me at first glance."

"Logan..." Ellie's eye gaze softened but small trembles ran through her lower lip, so she rolled it inward away from my touch. The longer she looked at me, a heavy sadness filled her eyes, which was reflected in her voice when she said, "I know we said Sunday but..."

"We'll talk tonight," I filled in and lowered my hand from her. "Let's pick up dinner on the way back and just stay in, okay?"

"Okay," she replied in a quiet, almost husky voice. She averted her eyes again, but not before I saw the shine of threatened tears.

While we walked silently to my truck, I knew we were in for a long, heavy, much-needed conversation so that we cleared the air between us. But we had to do this and I wasn't going anywhere until we discussed everything.

Everything.