SAMANTHA
Logan wanted to fight. I could tell.
The football challenge was scrapped. Heather’s tactic had been so successful the two declared an all-out war. She was carted off the field, giving him the middle finger, yelling that he was too controlling over me while Logan looked a mix of confused and enraged. The drill team hadn’t wanted to leave. They hated Heather, so of course they wanted to hear her demise happen. Anyone who went against Logan would see that end, but it’d be different this time. As soon as Heather was carried past me, she gave me a small wave and called out, “Please do damage control. I love you.”
I sighed, nodded, and pressed my hands to my temple. It wasn’t long until Logan tore off the field, after her. Unlike Heather, none of his friends were holding him back, so
