Page 142 of Riding the Sugar High

“I don’t intend to.”

He pecks my forehead again and again, the scent of his body wash and fresh grass just about the most comforting cocoon. I could stay here forever, and as happy as I am, my heart also twists at the thought of my imminent departure.

“You know, this doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you,” I scold. “You still should have told me.”

“You’re right, Barbie.” His hold tightens. “Butplease, come be mad at home.”

Home.It feels like I’m home already, right here between his arms.

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Are you allergic to strawberries?”

His lips freeze against my forehead. “Uh, mildly. My throat gets a little itchy—no big deal.”

“But then...” I look up at him. “Why do you keep eating my candy? I only made more because you finished it, then finished it again, and?—”

“Because you keep eating it.”

So? I also talk all the time, cry nearly every day, and wear pink skirts, and he doesn’t do any of that.

His thumb presses on my lips, pushing the bottom one down. “Your lollipops—they’re strawberry flavored, aren’t they?”

Yes, it’s nearly the same recipe as the hard candy.

When I nod, he cups my cheek. “You’re always eating one, so your mouth...it tastes like strawberry. I couldn’t tell the first time I ate your candy, but I knew it was familiar. And when we kissed again, I figured it out. You smell like it, you taste like it.”

He ate something he’s allergic to because the taste of it reminded him of our first kiss?

“Every time I wished I could kiss you, I ate your candy instead.”

I blink, then blink again, too stunned to say a word. I spent most of two weeks thinking he wouldn’t give me the time of day, while he was dying to kiss me all along? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t I believe him when he did?

Now we have four days left, and the awareness that we wasted most of our time together is so bitter that no candy could wipe it away.

“Well, I think you’re both free to go,” Josie says as she pops into the curtained area. Though I didn’t think there were any words in the English language that would get me to look away from Logan right now, those do the trick.

“We are?” I ask. “But—but Logan?—”

“No charges will be filed against him.”

What the hell is happening?

Connor comes back, his finger pointed at Logan. “Well played, but just know next time you won’t be this lucky.”

“What the hell is going on now?” he asks, and I share the sentiment. I don’t understand what’s happening, and I’m too tired to guess, so someone better bring us to speed.

“We have no way of proving which one of you did it, the scrunchie bears both your DNA, and the pigs are nowhere to be found.” Her eyes dart to me and quickly move away, and Iknowshe remembers seeing the piglets at Logan’s place. She’s saving our ass. “With both of you confessing?—”

“Shut up,” Connor barks at Josie, who responds with an eye roll.

“Do you need more proof that they won’t turn against each other?”

When Logan chuckles, I watch him with a curious grin. It looks like he just lost thirty pounds of stress, his lips bent into an effortless smile. “You figured Primrose was myoneweakness and lied to get me to confess because you have no hard proof.” He laughs even loudly now, pulling my face to his with the usual lack of grace. “Except you’re not my weakness, are you, backpack? You’re my secret weapon.”

I blush, still unsure of what’s happening. But it sounds like we’re not getting arrested today, and the police must be at their wits’ end if they’re pulling crap like that.