54| How Many Times Can Logan Say The Word 'Goddamn' in One Run-on Sentence?

LOGAN was playing in the big Atlanta volleyball tournament with her club team today. Her team was one of the best in the entire country when it came to these tournaments. And today for her was extremely important. The Stanford girls volleyball coach was going to be watching her today, scouting her. She told me about how they'd been talking for a while, just like I'd been talking to the boys Stanford coach. She was incredibly nervous about it, mostly because of her parents. I didn't dare bring my psychological "This isn't your dream, it's your parent's dream" into it today. That was definitely the last thing she needed.

I drove up to Atlanta to watch her play at 3:45 this afternoon. Her game started at 3:00, but because of Amelia's ballet practice, I had to show up a bit later than her actual game. When I got to the court, they were in a 3rd set, AKA the final set for club teams. When I walked up to stand behind a row of chairs where parents were sitting, I could see that the score was 9-12, with Logan's team down by 3 points. That certainly wasn't good.

I could see Logan's parents sitting next to each other and the girls Stanford volleyball coach. For once, Logan's parents weren't screaming from the sidelines, coaching her to do better. They were likely being on their best behavior to impress the coach. Was it bad that I wanted to roll my eyes?

I saw Logan playing on the court, taking her approach and swinging at the ball, sending it straight to the 10-foot line. Yep, that was my girlfriend. 10-12 now. I could tell that she was frustrated, but was trying her best to calm herself down, probably because of the Stanford coach. She hadn't seen me yet, but one of her teammates went back and served the ball straight into the net. 10-13 now.

Yikes.

I saw Logan tense and her jaw clenched, but she stepped back and got ready to receive the other team's serve. Logan passed the ball and her setter set it outside to her. Logan took her approach and, once again, slammed the ball down cross-court this time. No one on the other side picked it up. Logan cheered and her team all high-fived each other. I could tell she was still extremely angry. 11-12.

The next few points went by fast with Logan's team winning to make the score 13-12. It was the final point and Logan's team served the ball. The other team's libero picked the ball up, the setter set it to the outside, and they hit it down. Logan picked up the ball and her setter set it to her once again. Logan took her approach and swung, hitting a line shot, but it went just outside of the court. 14-13

She was really mad now.

The other team served the ball and Logan's libero passed it, but honestly, it was an awful pass. The setter ran to get the ball, setting it for a back-row attack, which ended up going straight to the libero on the other side. She passed the ball perfectly, set it to the right side, and Logan squatted down to get ready to block the ball. The other team's right-side hit the ball and Logan jumped up to block it. The ball barely touched Logan's hand before going out of the court and landing on the ground. 15-13, they lost.

The 2 teams high-fived each other and parents started heading onto the court. I looked for Logan on the court, catching a glimpse of her running a hand through her hair and pacing back and forth. She was shaking her head and I started to walk towards the court. Her parents and the Stanford coach were still standing with each other and talking. They hadn't yet made their way over to Logan.

Before I could get to Logan she ran away. And when I say run- I mean she literally ran away. She ran fast, too.

"Shit," I muttered and started to run after her. I had no idea where she was going, but I was going to find her.

I nearly lost Logan but found her sitting in a corridor in an empty hallway. She was sitting in the corner covering her face with her hands which were shaking. Dammit, this wasn't good.

I went over and crouched down in front of her.

"Logan," I said, but she didn't move a muscle. "Logan, hey- what's going on?"

It took her what felt like at least 2 minutes to finally drop her hands from her face. Her eyes were red and she wiped a tear from under her eye before breathing in deeply. "I can't fucking do it, Noah," she said.

"Do what?" I asked.

Again, there was a long period of silence before she talked. "You were right. When you said to me a week ago or whatever that maybe Stanford isn't my dream, that it's just my parents- you were right," she said, breathing erratically. "I- I don't want to go to some... ivy league stupid fucking school and play stupid fucking volleyball. I hate volleyball! I- I hate it!"

"Are you saying that because you lost?" I asked, wanting to make sure she was in the right headspace.

Logan shook her head. "It isn't just because we lost. I just fucking hate it!" Logan said. "It makes me angry and- and a bitch. I hate being a bitch. Do you know what my teammate said to me after the game ended today? She said- You're a really good volleyball player, Logan, but you're a complete bitch on the court. Maybe if you weren't such a bitch, we'd actually be friends. Like, how awful is that? I make people hate me because I'm a bitch!"

I grabbed Logan's hand and put my other hand on her cheek to wipe another tear away. "I'm sorry," I breathed. "You're not a bitch, though."

"Maybe not to you anymore. Or maybe not as much as I used to be. But on the court? Yeah, I'm a fucking bitch," Logan said. "I scream at people and I lose my goddamn temper. I don't want to be like this, Noah!"

"You don't have to."

Logan took a deep breath and sniffled, resting her head against the wall behind her. "Volleyball makes me hate myself," she muttered.

I reached forward and pulled her in towards my chest, hugging her while she silently cried. Her arms wrapped around my body and her hands clung to my t-shirt. I hated to see Logan so upset because it broke my heart. And to be honest, although I knew that Stanford wasn't her dream academically, I had no idea that it wasn't her dream to play volleyball for them. I always thought she loved volleyball. Now was the first time I was getting to see that she actually hated it.

Logan pulled away and looked at me. "I don't know what to do," she said. "My parents and the goddamn Stanford coach are out there probably waiting to talk to me. I'm supposed to meet with the fucking Stanford coach to talk about being recruited!" Logan barely laughed and shook her head. "I'm a fucking mess."

I thought about it and then stood up, grabbing Logan's hand and helping her up with me.

"You don't want to play for Stanford?" I asked just to make sure.

She shook her head. "I don't want to play at all."

"Then let's go," I said. "You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do."

Logan furrowed her eyebrows at me. "So what do I do?"

I smiled. "You come with me. On an adventure."

"Not another adventure," she groaned, then cracking a smile.

"Come on," I said. "It'll cheer you up. I'll even let you use me as a punching bag if you need to."

Logan laughed and then nodded. "Okay," she said.

✯ ✯ ✯

I drove with Logan for an hour to take her to my secret adventure location. It was just past 5 when we left the tournament and Logan had been mostly silent for the entire drive. It was understandable.

When we were about 20 minutes from the secret adventure location, I decided to pull through the Wendy's drive-thru to get Logan a frosty. She told me she was craving a chocolate frosty and some fries to dip in it. I couldn't agree more. Fries and frosties were the shit. When we pulled out of the drive-thru, Logan sighed and set her phone down.

"My parents are flipping out. They're not very happy," Logan said. "Of course they're not happy, I mean, I left the goddamn tournament where I was supposed to talk to the goddamn Stanford coach so that I could get goddamn scouted!"

"Let's play the game called 'how many times can Logan say the word goddamn in one run-on sentence'," I joked.

Logan slapped my arm. "Shut up, you aren't my English teacher," she said. "Whatever. They're never happy with anything I do anyway, so why should I goddamn care?"

"That's the goddamn spirit," I said, grinning over at her. She cracked a smile and shook her head.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Logan asked, dipping a fry into her chocolate frosty.

"You're in for a treat, Pierce. A goddamn treat," I said. "We're almost there."

"Oh goody, a surprise," she sarcased.

"You're gonna love it. Don't even worry."

I continued driving down the road which was lined with trees. The top of the jeep was down, letting the breeze hit us in a way that was so perfect. I took a turn and drove on a narrow road that passed over Lake Lanier. Logan sat up and looked out the window.

"Uh- what the hell?" She asked. "Where are we going?"

"Welcome to the Lake Lanier resort," I said as we drove into the resort. There was a main building with villas, but we passed by and headed on a different road.

"Resort?" She asked. "You're confusing me."

I laughed and kept driving on the road. I pulled off into a hidden driveway and drove up to the large lakehouse. I parked and got out of the car. Logan followed behind me as I started walking towards the gate that would lead us into the backyard. She hesitantly followed as we walked into the backyard. There were a hot tub and an outdoor kitchen, a fireplace next to a small seating area, and there were stone steps leading down to a dock that went out onto the lake. Attached to the dock was a smaller jet boat.

"Wait a minute," Logan said. "You remember the last time you took me to a lake on a boat? And then we almost got in trouble and needed Mrs. Grigio to be our alibi? Please tell me that this time this is actually yours."

"It's mine, Pierce. Promise," I said, holding up my pinky. She hesitated but locked her pinky with mine before following me down to the dock where we stood at the edge, looking out onto Lake Lanier. "My family used to come here at least 3 times every year. We haven't been back for a while, but it's always been my favorite place to getaway. I thought maybe you'd like to stay here with me tonight."

Logan smiled. "I'd love that," she said.

"So I was thinking we could take a little boat ride, do a few other little activities, whatever you want really," I suggested.

"And I'd love to. Except for the fact that I don't have a change of clothes. All I've got is the lovely volleyball attire that makes me want to cry," Logan said, doing a curtesy.

I laughed. "Well, lucky for you there's a little boutique up at the base of the resort. I have a golf cart in the shed that you can take to get there. To get yourself some different clothes. And don't worry about the cost, it'll all just go on my family's tab."

Logan shook her head. "You're unbelievable."

"I know," I said, grinning and leaning in to kiss her quickly. "I'll go get the golf cart and you can head up while I set the boat up. Sound good?"

"Sounds good."

✯ ✯ ✯

Pinky promise, y'all. This time, the boat really does belong to Noah. They aren't gonna almost have the police called on them by a random old man.

But they are gonna have a good time. And you can always count on a bit of competition...

Also, Logan finally admits that she hates volleyball. I get it, girl. I get it. Volleyball makes me extremely mad, too, even if I do enjoy playing sometimes. I'm right there in Logan's boat. POWER TO HER. And thanks to our man Noah for being the best literally ever.