Page 82

“It’ll warm up quickly.” Logan puts his mug on a desk, flicks on the overhead light, and plugs in a large space heater.

I walk the space slowly, taking in all the details while I hold my mug in two hands. The walls are simple stacked stone. Some still have dried lichen on them. There isn’t much furniture. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves cover the left-hand wall, there’s a beat-up desk pushed up against the right-side wall, and there’s a love seat under a window in between. Logan has found a way to tack posters to the stone, so much of the space is covered in maps of various D&D lands and characters.

“I see you and Grandma have another thing in common,” I say as I check out his things. “You hoard your collections like a dragon, too, except you have fewer Portuguese tiles and more fantasy novels.”

It’s not exactly the curated stone cottage that would send cottage-core Instagrammers into a tizzy, but to my eyes it’s glorious. Absolutely perfect. I forget the cold and the accident and every other thing except the outstanding hot chocolate in my hands and this treasure of a space around me. I circle the room slowly, studying the details in the maps and reading the titles on the spines of the books. If that love seat is comfortable, I might try renting the space like an Airbnb.

I turn around. “Loga—” I pause. The heat of his gaze pulls the words from my mouth like a tornado sucking a tree out of the ground. “Are…you okay?”

“You were making little humming sounds.” His voice is rough.

I duck my head in embarrassment. “Was I? I didn’t realize.”I glance around the room again. “It’s just this space…it’s like heaven.”

“Really, you like it?”

“Are you kidding me? You have, like, a little stone cave where you can hide from the world and read and build campaigns. I’d spend every waking hour here if I could.” I point to a map on the wall. “Is this the map for the assassin campaign? I’ve never seen this one.”

He jumps into action, pointing to a few of the locations where he’s thinking the assassin could hide and rattling off some backstory about why the child prince might be in league with an assassin. We sit down on the love seat, and I swear under my breath.

“What?” Logan asks.

“The love seat is so comfortable.”

He frowns. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It is for you. I’m not leaving—this place is officially mine now.” I set my mug down and put both arms along the back of the love seat to claim it as my own. “I’m willing to negotiate on rent, but I’ll warn you that I’m broke.”

“You’re trying to evict me? That was quick. And after my mom gave you her famous hot chocolate.”

I pretend to consider. “You could probably stay—I might get a little lonely all by myself. But I’m claiming the loveseat.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” His teasing tone shifts to more serious. “Although I should probably remind you that we agreed to stop being alone together and this place is…very alone.”

He gestures around the space and out the window. Hishouse is in the distance, but it’s far enough away that I can’t see in the windows…which probably means they can’t see in here either. The love seat is suddenly extra small with him next to me, the air heavy with the realization that almost anything could happen here and no one would know. I understand now why Logan’s mom was hesitant to let us come out here together.

“I’m sorry I texted you,” I say. “It wasn’t fair to do that after we agreed to keep away. I could have waited with Grandma and Dad.”

“No.” His tone is vehement. “Don’t apologize. You should always text me if you need something. I want to be the one you text.”

There isn’t enough oxygen in this shed. Words and thoughts scatter in my mind. What would one kiss matter? Just a kiss to get it out of my system. To get it out of both our systems. It would be the smart thing to do…the logical thing…

Logan stands abruptly and runs a hand through his hair. “Wow, this is even harder than I thought it would be.”

“What is?”

“You. Us. This.” He gestures between us. “Having you here, and watching your lips move as you read the book titles on my shelves, and listening to you make those happy humming sounds, and sitting next to you when I’ve spent way too much time imagining what it would be like to kiss you in that exact spot.” He takes a step back and restlessly messes with his hair again. “I don’t know how to do this with you.”

I hate how agitated he is in my presence, but I love it atthe same time. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. “We’ll go.” I stand and walk to the door. “At some point my mom will start wondering why I’m not home yet.”

“I don’t just mean right now, Quinn. I don’t know how to be around you at all. I’m not sure how many more times I can sit across that D&D table from you and hold myself back from kissing you.”

His words are edged with such anxiety that I want to smooth them. I try for a lighthearted comment to break the tension. “I actually remember you glaring at me a lot across that table.”

“That’s because I already knew this was going to happen. I knew it from that first morning when I took your picture. And it didn’t help that you were totally unaffected at the games while I was a mess.”

“Are you kidding? I was a mess too. Maybe I was better at hiding it.”

This shed is small enough that he’s next to me with one large step. His gaze burns a line of fire on every place it trails over. “Do you know how happy I was when your text came in earlier? And how guilty and horrible I felt when I figured outwhyyou were texting? Not being with you is driving me crazy.” His hand encircles my own. He turns my palm up and lifts it to his mouth, his lips pressing gently on the soft skin on the inside of my wrist.