Page 19 of Attractive Forces

On Friday, I’m sitting in the cafeteria with my friends, trying hard not to glance at Logan’s table. I never thought I’d be one of those people who spends time looking wistfully at the table of popular people, but as both Charles Dickens and Justin Bieber both say,never say never.

I go from complete avoidance to limiting my glances to once every two minutes. I’m only human, after all.

Every time I look at the table, I’m reminded that Logan’s the king of the beautiful people. Generally, the rugby players are above average-looking—how can that be? Is there some genetic link between athletic ability and symmetrical faces?—but Logan outshines them all.

What part of Logan makes him so good-looking? I mean, individually, every one of his features is superior—his wavy hair that’s stuck in an identity crisis between blond and brown but somehow looks better than either individual color, his tanned skin that glows like it’s lit from within, his straight nose and square jaw—but combined they seem to produce a product that is more than the sum of the individual components.

I slide a glance at him, purely for scientific purposes, only to discover he’s looking at me.

He grins automatically, and I find myself grinning back. He drops his gaze to the table, and suddenly, my phone beeps.

what you think of the meatball sauce? too spicy?

I stifle my laugh. This has become our thing, to critique any food or beverage to each other. It’s dumb, but it’s the kind of dumb fun Logan and I enjoy.

I’d give it a 4.3 out of 10. Points taken off for the burnt stuff floating around.

saw that. thought it was a new kind of seasoning.

think you’re overestimating the cafeteria’s staff on that one

“Who are you messaging?” Chloe asks.

“Just Logan.” I turn my phone over so it's facedown on the table. Even though our texts are innocent, I feel strangely defensive. It’s no one’s business what Logan and I message about.

“Logan Madison?” Ellie’s elfin features pinch together.

“Jake’s the new rugby player’s pet. Haven’t you worked it out?” Chloe says.

“Is he a hamster or a gerbil?” Ellie asks.

“I was going for pet cockroach, actually,” Chloe says.

“Logan’s a good guy,” I say.

We all look at Logan, who’s staring down at his phone as he types something out.

My phone beeps with his reply at the same time that he looks over at me.

He seems taken aback to see our whole table staring at him. Shit. It might be a tad obvious that he’s our topic of conversation.

He does this grimace-smile thing I recognize as Logan’s version of discomfort.

“My god, is Logan Madison embarrassed at being stared at?” Chloe crows triumphantly.

“He is a person, you know.” My voice comes out sharper than expected.

“Really, I thought he was a cyborg sent from the future to warn us what happens when we focus too much on athletic performance at the expense of brainpower.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Chloe takes a sip of her soda. “So?” She narrows her gaze back at me. I glance away. Things have been a bit weird between us since we had the conversation about going to the ball. I notice Benji watching us, his bushy eyebrows bunched together, so I busy myself by checking my phone to see what Logan messaged me back.

I’m an optimist

He’s referring to the skillset of the cafeteria staff, of course, but for a second, I consider his words. Is Logan an optimist? I wouldn’t call him that. He can come across as happy-go-lucky, but there’s something…restrained about him. Like he’s holding something back. He’s too cautious and wary to be a true optimist. I’d say he’s more of a realist.

I’m aware I’m spending far too much time dissecting Logan Madison at the moment. It’s like it’s my new hobby.