Page 16 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Chapter Ten

LOGAN

Something is happening to me. Something unknown, and exciting, and fucking terrifying. I must’ve misread all the signals. Every look, every touch—it’s not a figment of my imagination.

There was something—some force tethering us across time and distance, pulling invisible strings until fate finally brought her back into my orbit that day at freshman orientation.

I’d caught wind through social media that she’d be going to the University of Texas too, but it still knocked me sideways when I saw her in the middle of the crowd—standing there in a Hook ’em Horns tee with a smile a mile wide, glowing like she’d swallowed sunlight.

Now, I watch her from across the fire pit, basking in its warmth as the flames flicker between us. Her face lights up as she lands a perfect toss in a game of corn hole, beating Isabel and Jackson without breaking a sweat.

Her arms shoot up in victory, and her laugh rings out, light and full, completely unfiltered. I’ve heard it a hundred times, but tonight … I don’t know.

It hits a little different. Like I’m hearing it through newfound ears, or maybe I’m just finally paying closer attention.

Same smile. Same energy. Same Tia.

Except maybe not. Maybe something’s different now.

Maybe it’s me.

“Wanna hit?” Kerry drops into the empty seat beside me, holding out a still-burning joint. One look at the red rim around his glassy eyes and I can tell he’s already floating.

“What is it? It’s not that shit we smoked last time, is it? Because if it is, I’m gonna have to pass, brother.”

Kerry just laughs, pinching the joint between his fingers and insisting I take it from him. “No. This is a sativa. I promise—no one is going to be asleep on the ground tonight.”

The last bonfire we had at Donovan’s cabin, Kerry and Jackson brought a strain so strong it had us all laid out like crash-test dummies. It was supposed to be a “chill” night. Leave it to the two twenty-two-year-olds to turn a casual hangout into a full-body shutdown.

Tia got hit the hardest. I still laugh every time I think about her staring at a half-eaten hot dog like it was speaking to her before she passed out cold on Donovan’s couch for the rest of the night.

“Alright, yeah. Lemme get that,” I relent, taking it from his fingers. I bring it to my lips and inhale deep, the end glowing bright as the smoke curls into my lungs.

I hold the hit in for a few seconds, letting the burn settle in my chest before slowly exhaling a cloud into the night air.

Thank God they don’t drug test at work—and for California being ahead of the curve on legalization.

I don’t light up often, but when it comes from Kerry King, I’m not about to say no.

“Smooth, right?”

I sink a little deeper into my chair, nodding to Kerry as I tilt my head back and stare up at the sky. The stars are out tonight. So clear and sharp, maybe even a little brighter after that hit.

I keep my gaze on them, letting the soft hum of voices around the fire blur into the background. Laughter blends with the low thrum of music, curling through the air like smoke.

The scent of charcoal still lingers from the grill, earthy and warm, and every now and then a breeze carries the skunky bite of weed through the night air. It all feels distant, like I’m floating just above it.

That’s just the weed talking.

But when I finally glance back toward the fire, I feel it. Her stare.

Across the flames, a pair of hazel eyes lock onto mine.

Tia leans back in her chair, a joint tucked casually between her lips, watching me through the flicker and glow. There’s a spark in her gaze—half challenge, half amusement—that shoots straight through me.

Like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

I watch her cheeks hollow as she inhales, and it shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. She exhales slowly, blowing the smoke just to the side, but her eyes never leave mine.

Her face glows entrancingly, the firelight casting shadows that dance across her features—heat on heat, like the flames are mirroring what’s happening beneath my skin.

A quick glance around the fire tells me no one’s paying attention. Everyone’s either too stoned or too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice the charged stare holding steady between Tia and me.

And yet, the silence between us might as well be louder than their conversations.

Her eyes dare me to move. Her body—posture, breath, presence—tells me exactly what she wants.

Her chest rises and falls. She bites her lip. She shifts her thighs together like she’s trying to quiet something only I can see.

This isn’t subtle. This isn’t casual. This is her yelling at me without saying a word.

And I’m one second away from listening.

But then a petite brunette obstructs my view, standing in front of me with a smug grin. At least she’s fully clothed this time.

“You wanted to talk to me earlier?”

My cloudy brain takes a minute to recalibrate. Right. I’d asked Isabel earlier if we could talk just before she got pulled into a game of corn hole with Jackson.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yes.”

“Okay. Walk with me?”

“Sure.”

As I move to stand, I catch Tia’s gaze following me as Isabel leads me toward the vineyard. Lately, I’ve gotten good at reading the storm of emotions that live in her eyes. I’ve seen jealousy, lust, even adoration. But this time … it’s different.

It’s not anger, not possessiveness.

It looks a lot like acceptance—and somehow, that unsettles me more than anything else.

Isabel and I make it to the edge of the vineyard, just far enough to talk where no one can hear our conversation.

“So, what’s up?” Isabel asks, running a hand through her long hair.

“I wanted to apologize. You know, for last night. And the night before. I feel like I led you on, and I shouldn’t have.”

Isabel stares at me for a few seconds before laughing in my face. I’m slow to react because of the weed, but I nervously chuckle alongside her, scratching the back of my neck.

“Logan. If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who came onto you. If I had known you were into Tia, I wouldn’t have pursued you the way I did. And besides, it was only casual. I’m not like looking for a boyfriend or anything. No offense.”

None taken.

“Wait wait wait. What do you mean you wouldn’t have pursued me if you … if I weren’t … Wait. What the fuck am I trying to say?”

We both start laughing, the weed clearly short-circuiting my brain and its ability to form coherent thoughts.

Through the haze, I force my mind to focus, rewinding Isabel’s words like a tape I suddenly need to study. She’s the second person to say that I have a thing for Tia.

And now I can’t shake the feeling that everyone sees it but us. Like we’re the punchline of a joke we don’t even know we’re in.

“I’m into Tia?”

“I don’t know, Logan. Are you?”

“You’re confusing me.”

“You’re stoned.”

“So are you.”

Isabel waves a dismissive hand in my face. “All I was trying to say is you two need to quit dancing around each other and just be together. You’re into her. She’s into you. Stop fighting it.”

Everything spins a little, just enough to knock me off-kilter. I turn around, anchoring my sights on the steadily burning fire. Distant laughter from the group floats through the air. Even from here, I can make out the stark beauty of Tia’s raven hair. Of course I can.

“See? See! You look for her no matter where you are. You were doing it that night at the lake. It’s actually so cute, Logan. You’re so into her!”

Fuck. I do look for her.

It’s like I can’t breathe right until my eyes find her—like everything inside me holds its breath until it knows she’s there.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, alright. I get it,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck like that’ll scrub the panic off me. “We good, Iz? Friends?”

Isabel giggles, light and airy. “We’re good.” She wraps her tiny arms around my middle, giving me one big squeeze. “Friends.”

Isabel and I call our truce and make our way back toward the group. Once I feel the warmth from the fire hit my skin, the pull toward Tia hits me just as hard as the weed did.

She’s still in the same spot as when I left. Our eyes find each other easily, like two magnets. I stand at the edge of the fire, once again landing myself in this intense, wordless staring match.

I can let panic sink in and allow my inner thoughts to eat me alive, cloaking me in shame and guilt and whatever other ugly thing I might feel when I’m forced to face this thing that’s happening with Tia.

Or I can surrender to the pull. Use tonight to explore something that might be worth exploring.

My feet carry me toward her on their own volition, and the next thing I know I’m kneeling beside her, watching her breath hitch as I lean in close.

I’m hit with her intoxicating scent, laced with smoke and her tantalizing perfume—citrus and sweet. I want to bury my nose in it, but not yet. Not here.

“You gonna keep looking at me like that all night?” My voice drops, low and rough with gravel. Her lips part, releasing a soft, breathy sigh. It stirs something feral in me I can barely contain.

“Mhmm.” She all but moans the word, and it hits me like a straight shot to my lower region.

I don’t know what’s happening between us. I just know I don’t want to fight it right now. Fighting it would kill my buzz.

And I just want to ride this high.