"Say it again." Logan's mouth curled upwards from over his breakfast smoothie glass, which, yes, had hidden cauliflower inside the mango, banana, sweet potato, and carrot base.

"No." I rolled my eyes at his fourth attempt. "Three times is enough."

His hand was cold and slightly damp from his glass when he clamped his palm over mine. "I'll never get tired of hearing that."

I narrowed my eyes at him then took a bite of the warm oatmeal cranberry bake that I was surprised hadn't burned to a crisp with how Logan and I were in the shower. "So this ESPN interview, what's your opinion?"

"That I want the whole world knowing that you're mine," he replied casually, but his eyes twinkled over his fork while he shoved in his last bite of scrambled eggs. "So feel free to answer that to every question asked."

"You're shameless." I fought an urge to roll my eyes up to the ceiling. "But you think this is the best venue for us to talk about... us? I mean technically we've been officially dating what, two, three days?"

Feels like longer, at least.

Thankfully, Logan seemed like he shared the same thought process because he said, "Longer in my mind."

Before I responded, he switched to a slightly dismissive tone. "Plus people already know," he stated the obvious. "I'm in favor of anything that's more on our terms than the alternative. But I want you to be okay with that."

"Don't have much choice and wouldn't say I know what I'm getting into with media attention but I understand. I don't want any of my past mud slung into my face." I studied his face for a reaction when I added, "Which is why I emailed Mr. Reynolds."

"Really?" Logan's eyebrows lifted creases high into his forehead. "What did he say?"

"Good question. Let's see." I pushed up from my seat and grabbed my cell phone. After a few moments, I scrolled through my email and saw Mr. Reynolds had sent a two-word response.

Call me.

-D. Reynolds

"That." I lifted my phone into Logan's line of vision, then hit the call button.

"Hi Eleanor," Harper's Dad's voice greeted me on the second ring.

"Hi Mr. Reynolds, hope it's not too early." I flipped on the speaker setting, then laid my phone down on the table between me and Logan. "Logan's here too."

"Unlike the vampire under my roof, I'm a morning person. And I'm aware of your situation, congratulations." He chuckled quietly at whatever source, mostly like the one dead to the world so early on a Sunday morning, had informed him of our situation.

Despite whatever Mr. Reynolds knew from Harper, he prompted, "You two back together?"

"We are," Logan responded. "Which is why ESPN wants to interview us."

"Right." My phone crackled slightly and we heard a rough cough in the background. "I assume you're asking for my opinion, which is I'd advise against it."

Both Logan and I stared down at my phone in silence. Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat, then continued, "National exposure for Ellie isn't good, neither is inviting reporters to dig into your personal life... which they might do if you declined. Either way, I can't see this ending well, unless..."

I wasn't sure what alternative we had and prompted, "Unless what?"

"Unless I'm there." The phone crackled again as he sighed. "You have to stay away from anything about Ryder, the NDA terms are pretty straight-forward in what you can't say. I wouldn't even mention Santa Cruz if you can, other than paint things like a rival quarterback high school romance triangle that you've rekindled and hope that's enough diversion away from the real story."

"Works for me." My chest lifted slightly, then dropped as I sighed. "But I'd hate for you to come up here for for an hour or so, Mr. Reynolds."

At least, it'd better not be more than an hour.

He chuckled quietly. "You think Harper hasn't been looking for an excuse to come see you?"

"It'd be in two weeks, right?" I asked Logan.

"Yeah, works for me if you're there, Mr. Reynolds." Logan nodded, his eyes fixed on me as he answered, "I'm used to the attention but want to make things as easy as possible for Ellie."

"Understandable," Mr. Reynolds' answer struck a small pain of guilt in my stomach. "It's only a four hour flight, I can make the arrangements."

"Are you sure?" I knew he'd helped our family pro-bono because of his closeness with my parents but this sounded like a gigantic inconvenience for Mr. Reynolds.

"Trust me, a particular someone has been lamenting how much I do nothing but work, so maybe a weekend getaway trip up the Pacific Northwest will give that someone a little perspective."

"Selfishly, I'd love to see Harper again," I admitted with a smile.

"I imagine the feeling's mutual." Mr. Reynolds chuckled quietly, before his tone turned serious again. "Defining your relationship on your own terms is one way to handle the attention but you don't have to answer particular questions. Logan you're under the same NDA restrictions with Ryder but you can deflect or refrain from answering anything that's even remotely incriminating. Probably best if Jake's on the same page too, although if it's in two weeks for the interview to air in three, they'll probably interview Jake down in LA."

"Oh..." My chest lifted slightly, then dropped as I sighed and absorbed all that information the best I could. "Alright, we'll make sure Jake's on board. Thanks Mr. Reynolds."

"While I have you on the phone, speaking of Ryder..." His voice trailed off and he coughed again. "Sorry, mild cold. Ryder's case is up for trial again, set in about six weeks from now."

"I'm sorry," Logan blurted out suddenly with the first sign of tension in his face during this whole conversation. I also noticed his other hand on his farthest knee was clenched into a white-knuckled fist. "How is he not in jail?"

"I'm not allowed to be involved but I pay attention for your sake, make sure they hold up their end of the NDA," Harper's Dad reminded us. "Which reminds me, I should notify the Stevens of the interview and assure them their son won't be mentioned."

"So..." Logan's prompting now had me curious. "He hasn't had a trial yet?"

"No. Every time his case is put on the docket, there's a delay. Either an extension or delay, one of the witnesses I think the Stevens are working overtime on putting this off as long as possible, give themselves more time to work over the county's witnesses. I can't imagine that finding an unbiased jury pool selection has been an easy process either."

"Great," Logan grumbled. I slid my eyes closed because this topic had now churned my stomach with enough discomfort that I felt nauseous.

As if he sensed my discomfort, Mr. Reynolds offered, "I'm only telling you this because once Ryder finally does face a courtroom, there's a possibility you'll get subpoenaed, Eleanor."

Like tiny needles had pricked into my body, his words chilled from my skin all the way deep into my bones.

What? How could that happen?

"Me? How does -"

"I'll help you cross that bridge when it comes," he promised. "Just don't want you to be surprised if you get something in the mail, which would be mandatory for you to attend in person. The Attorney General's Office is calling in any and every one that could be related and I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't the only girl out there with an NDA from the Stevens."

"Shit..." I squeezed my eyes tightly closed for a few breaths that did nothing against the erratic beats in my chest. My breath hitched in my throat when Logan's warm hand closed around mine and I opened my eyes to a sea of concern in his.

"In the meantime," Mr. Reynolds' words barely registered with me. "I'll block out my calendar and make the travel arrangements once you email me the date and time."

"Thanks, Mr. Reynolds." I hung up after our goodbyes, then rubbed the pads of my index finger and thumb between the threatened headache between my eyebrows. "Fuck."

Warm fingers trailed down the back of my neck, rubbed over my shoulders, then lowered into soft circles into my lower back. I leaned forwards and rested my forehead against Logan's shoulder, and some of my tension melted when I breathed in his fresh scented soap and deodorant.

"It'll be okay." Logan's voice murmured all the right reassurances, over and over, but either my ears hadn't heard them or my brain wasn't ready to absorb them. "He can't do anything, the NDA has the restraining order terms laid out. I'm right here too, baby."

After a few moments and similar words from Logan that comforted me more than I knew how to express, I pulled back and grabbed my phone. "We should call Jake."

Logan's eyebrows lifted at my sudden change of mood and topic. "You ready?"

"Ready to kick out his morning after girl," I mumbled and dialed his number.

Just like I'd expected, four rings later, Jake's groggy voice came over my phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Jake." I frowned down at my screen. "Logan's here with me, we want to talk about the ESPN interview. Sorry if we're waking you up."

"Nah... it's... hang on," Jake grumbled, then rustling sounds erupted from my phone. I propped my elbow on the table and chin in my palm while Jake held a muffled conversation with an unknown female voice.

With one sweep of his arm, Logan cleared away our empty breakfast plates but I caught his low chuckle when he walked into the kitchen.

"Don't encourage him," I called after Logan, who just stuck his head out the kitchen and grinned.

"Safe to say they won't ask about his love interests," he replied, then disappeared to the sound of running water from the sink.

"No. You need to leave... Sorry." Jake's faded voice ran out. "No, she's not... None of your business, see yourself out."

Knew it. Jake's almost as bad as Harper.

"Thanks," he muttered into the phone. "That one was clingy, I lost another T-shirt."

"Jake," I groaned and rubbed my palm over my forehead. "Seriously? Are you trying to get an STD or just naturally being a selfish asshole?"

"They know what they're getting, along with my shirts," he grumbled. "Or more importantly, not getting from me."

Since I preferred the ostrich-head-buried-in-the-sand approach with Jake's personal life, I just shook my head. "Logan was asked during his last game to do a special interview with ESPN, they want to include you. That's why I'm calling."

At my mention of his name, Logan silently returned to his seat.

"I know," Jake replied in a tight voice. "Some Rachel Sorenson emailed me late last night. She wants to interview you two, then tap me in a video conference. I thought at first it was just another standard pregame interview but she wanted to ask me about you and LT. You really gonna go public?"

"We'd rather not," I gritted out and tossed Logan an apologetic look. "But better on our terms. Just wanted to see if you were okay with that."

Jake's voice was casual, more like he couldn't have cared less, when he replied, "Your funeral, not mine."

"So you won't say anything bad, right?" I pressed. "Obviously nothing NDA-related."

"Of course not." He scoffed into the phone. "Can't promise I won't flirt with Rachel though."

"I'd almost prefer you did," I admitted and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling. "And be nice about Logan."

"I won't say anything that's not true." Jake laughed.

I just shook my head at Logan, who shrugged like now he didn't care, then sighed and looked back at my phone. "Right. See you in a few weeks. Thanks Jake."

After we exchanged goodbyes, my eyes shifted and glued to Logan's.

"So..." I bit back the hesitation that closed off my throat. "We're doing this?"

A firm nod from Logan was all I needed. "We're doing this."

"Wow." Charlie pulled back from her bite of dinner, her eyes wide and mouth dropped open. "A national interview?"

"Yeah." I smiled tightly from my seat at their table.

After an entirely lazy day of homework, studying, another round of sex, then a nap before Logan's lighter workout day, he and I came over to Charlie and Wes' apartment for Sunday night dinner. In addition to the stuffed peppers and fruit salad I'd made, we'd also shared a few laughs.

While he'd invited us, well mostly our food, in with opening arms, Wes hadn't appreciated the digs about his low production during the Arizona game. Logan assured him that he'd make up for it in the next one, whatever that meant. I had no idea how he was so sure about that but just sipped at my water glass since Logan obviously knew more than I did.

"You know that means any privacy you have left on campus will be non-existent," Charlie replied and finally closed her mouth. "You okay with that, Ellie?"

"Not really but do I have a choice?" I answered honestly, which prompted Logan's hand intertwined with mine under the table. "If Lydia's taught me anything, it's that either way, people will find out. It's just whether we can do things on our own terms and if I want to kiss Logan on campus then I'm kissing him."

"Right," Wes replied dryly and wiped his mouth. "You sure you're ready for the garbage dumpster divers, Ellie?"

"Stop," Charlie whispered hoarsely and palmed his closest bicep. "It's a cute story, high school valedictorian with the rival school's star quarterback and prom king. Besides, we know once football season dies down, you guys are nowhere near interesting anymore."

"Hey." Wes' forehead rumpled into multiple rows of creases. "I resemble that remark."

"Yes, yes you do." Charlie patted his forearm. "And no one's knocking on our door to interview you about your jock itch cream distinctions."

"Makes a difference," Logan and Wes muttered simultaneously, which would've been cute had they not just mentioned jock itch cream.

As Logan's smile faded, I squeezed his hand tightly.

"We spoke with our lawyer," he redirected the conversation back to the ESPN interview. "He wasn't initially crazy about the idea but understood and he'll be here the whole time. We only have to answer the questions we want to anyway."

"But then you look guilty for not answering them," Wes retorted between bites of food.

He has a point.

"Not necessarily, if we answer things like they aren't anyone's business." My shoulders lifted lightly. "We're hoping to keep the focus on the Jake-Logan thing anyways, like a pre-game interest story."

"Lawyering up, wow." Charlie gave me a hopeful smile that mismatched the concern that swirled in her light blue eyes. "When is the interview?"

"Family lawyer," I answered her, then looked over at Logan because I had no idea when the actual interview was scheduled for.

"Friday after the Michigan game," he answered. "Or before Montana's here."

"Before the next home game," I reiterated, which he nodded silently.

Interesting.

What Logan hadn't known was the special plans I had for that game, since his twenty-first birthday fell on the week afterwards. Logan in the past had always assumed his birthday was cursed. While I hadn't planned anything too extravagant, I couldn't wait for his reaction.

Something tells me that not even this interview could put a damper on it.