Page 10 of Straight to You

And then, we get to work, trying to spend the next few hours keeping up with Jim’s requests.

He’s been measuring and cutting the boards while Logan and I work on screwing them into the base.

It feels good to have a regular day with Logan and his family after all of the strange things that have been happening recently.

“Look at that,” I say, looking at the board I just screwed in. “That’s what I call craftsmanship.”

Logan comes up to stand beside me and hums. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. Not bad.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Not bad? That’s damn near perfect and you know it.”

He smirks. “Fine. But don’t let it go to your head. There’s still about twenty more boards to go. ”

Jim chuckles behind us with a pencil in hand to mark the boards. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

Logan’s eyes go wide for half a second before he recovers with a grin. “He wishes.”

I laugh too, but I don’t miss that flicker of something in his expression before the smile.

And the comment sticks with me longer than it probably should because maybe I’ve been missing something this whole time.

I’ve never really thought about our relationship in too much depth, but maybe we are kind of like an old married couple already.

We have our weekly platonic ‘date night’ at Pine Bar, we shop at the farmer’s market together, and we’ve got a favorite spot at the lake where we always end up watching the water and talking.

We cook together, know how each other likes our coffee, and even sleep in the same bed, cuddled up together.

Have I been treating Logan like we’re in a relationship this entire time?

I used to tell myself that’s what close best friends do, but I know that’s a lie. I don’t think any of our other friends sleep in the same bed together, but I also don’t care because I like sleeping in bed with him.

I’m starting to see all those ‘little’ things differently now. Maybe there were always signs pointing to something more, and I wasn’t ready to see them.

Logan’s parents even know how close we are. Though they don’t know we share a bed, Anne did ask if I was there this morning…

Maybe the only people who’ve been confused about this are Logan and I.

I still don’t know how to bring this up to Logan, either, but that’s a problem for future me to deal with.

I’ve never wanted to hang out with a girlfriend the same way I want to hang out with him.

My ex from a few years ago would always get mad that I wanted Logan to come with us to the farmer’s market, and at the time, I didn’t understand why, because the farmers market was our thing before I’d ever met her, just like Pine Bar.

She was joining in on an activity that was usually reserved for Logan and me.

I wasn’t just going to uninvite him from something we always did together.

By the time we’re done, the deck looks good as new, according to Anne.

She came outside a couple of times to bring us drinks and snacks throughout the day.

The first time she did it, I glanced over at Logan and watched the interaction with a small smile; it’s easy to see where he gets his warmth and compassion from.

As promised, Anne cooked more food than we could possibly eat, but I’m certainly not complaining because it was delicious. She also loads us up with containers of food to take home, including an entire container of cookies each.

“Mom,” Logan groans as she hands him another container. “We’re not starving.”

“Well, I don’t get to do this for your brother, so I’m doing it for you two,” she says, waving him off. “Besides, I know you’ll forget to eat the second you get busy with work. Just let me do this for you.”

He groans, but I know it’s only out of love, then she turns to me. “You make sure he doesn’t overdo it, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, barely getting the word out before she’s pulling me into a hug. “Of course.”

“And take care of yourself, too, Ryder. I’ll see you boys soon.”

Logan sighs at this whole routine, but I catch the softness in his expression as he grabs the last of the packed-up food. He hugs his mom, then I follow him out the door, our arms full of food .

By the time we get back to Logan’s apartment, I don’t even make it to the couch before I collapse against the wall near the door, tilting my head back with a sigh. It’s been a long time since I’ve done a full day of manual labor. It felt good, sure, but I’m also completely exhausted.

Logan snorts as he kicks off his shoes. “You’re pathetic.”

“We built a whole ass deck today. I’m allowed to be pathetic.”

He rolls his eyes as he laughs, tossing his keys onto the entry table. “Shower first. Before you pass out right next to the door.”

I lift a tired hand in protest. “In a minute.”

“Nope. Go.” He bends down, grabs my wrist, and yanks me up like I weigh nothing. “See how nice I am? Letting you shower first in my apartment?”

I grumble, but he’s right. My muscles are stiff, my back aches, and I’m probably still covered in sawdust despite shaking out my hair multiple times.

Maybe he could shower with me and hold me up right.

Well, shit. Despite how tired I am, it seems like I’m not tired enough to forget this newfound interest in my best friend. Instead of risking opening my mouth, I drag myself to the bedroom to grab clean clothes from my drawer—and I take his hoodie too, just because—and head into the bathroom.

The second the hot water hits my skin, I exhale and feel my body start to relax. Logan was right. I needed this. My body feels like it’s been put through a blender, and standing under the spray is the exact kind of reprieve I needed.

By the time I step out, towel-drying my hair, Logan’s already claimed the couch and has reruns playing on the TV .

“Took you long enough. Get preoccupied in there?” he asks with a smirk.

I flop down beside him, letting the couch swallow me whole. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He chuckles. “You staying over?”

I shrug, already sinking deeper into the cushions. “If you don’t care. Too lazy to drive home.”

“Shocking, with how much energy you have after today,” he deadpans. “But I’m not mad about another night of cuddles.”

Relief washes through me. Not that I thought he’d kick me out, but after a whole weekend with him, I’m still not ready to go home to my too-quiet house.

Logan gets up with a groan and disappears into the bathroom for his shower.

I don’t know why tonight feels different.

We’ve done this hundreds of times. We’ve spent entire weekends together before.

But something about this one—something about him —keeps tugging at my thoughts.

Maybe it’s just the weekend getting to me.

Maybe it’s the way his family treats me like I belong.

Maybe it’s the quiet comfort of falling into step with him so easily.

Maybe it’s the way I keep catching myself wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. Or maybe?—

I hear the door to the bathroom open, and before I can stop myself, I call out to him.

“Logan.”

He looks down the hall, blue eyes curious. “Yeah?”

I hesitate. The words catch in my throat. I missed you last week. You’re my best friend. I love you. Let’s live together again. I hate being apart. I want you. I think I have feelings for you.

“Thanks for today,” I say instead .

His brow furrows like he knows I’m not saying everything I want to, but he just nods. “Of course. Thank you . I know my parents appreciated it.”

He pops back into the bathroom for a moment before coming back into the living room.

I’m lying the full length of the couch, and instead of giving me a second to adjust, he drops down right on top of me.

His head of wet hair is already soaking my shirt, but I don’t mind at all as I embrace him fully and pull the blanket over both of us.

We stay like that until he eventually peels himself off me and insists we go to bed before we fall asleep on the couch.

I don’t want to move, but he tugs me to my feet.

The second we crawl into bed, Logan is against me, pulling me close so we’re chest to chest, both of us on our sides facing each other.

We don’t usually sleep like this. Typically, one of us has our head on the other’s chest, or we spoon.

This feels far more intimate than any position we’ve ever been in, and feels harder to chalk up to platonic comfort, but I’m not complaining.

Maybe he felt something shift Friday night, too.

I feel his breath against my collarbone as his arms wrap tightly around my waist. He slips one of his legs between mine so we’re slotted together and I can feel his dick against mine.

He’s not fully hard, but we’ve never been dick to dick before.

I try to keep it together so I don’t freak him out by getting hard again.

He leans forward, letting his lips graze the side of my neck and linger there. I don’t want to move away, so I stay there and let myself lean into him more because whatever is happening between us, I want it.