Page 6 of Straight to You

RYDER

H oly shit, it’s hot.

Logan’s always been a human furnace and, if I’m being honest, I love it.

I think that’s why I always end up gravitating toward him in my sleep.

Even if we don’t start the night curled up together, I somehow manage to have wrapped myself around him by morning.

My arm is still draped over his chest, and my face is buried in the pillow just inches from his shoulder, which is pretty on par for us.

We’ve been doing this for years. Seven, to be exact.

Ever since that night junior year in college, when Logan’s girlfriend at the time, Jenn, dumped him publicly and brutally.

As soon as she finished making a scene at the party we were at, I grabbed Logan and told him we were going home.

He didn’t argue, and he didn’t say much of anything on the walk back to our apartment, which is how I knew what happened had really gotten to him.

Neither of us is usually quiet unless something is wrong, and that was the quietest I’d ever seen him, until we got home, and it all came spilling out.

“She’s right, you know,” he’d started, leaning forward on the couch with his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t prioritize her, I couldn’t. I didn’t care the way I knew I was supposed to.”

I’d gone over to sit next to him and comfort him. “Logan?—”

“No, seriously, Ry,” he’d cut me off, and I’d hated seeing him beat himself up.

“I did screw this relationship up. She wanted more, and I couldn’t give it to her.

I couldn’t even make my girlfriend a priority.

And you know what? I don’t even care! I don’t.

I really don’t think I do. I still would have picked you to hang out with all those times.

I don’t care if that makes me a bad boyfriend.

” He scrubbed his hands down his face and then laughed to himself before continuing.

“She’d always get so mad at me when I’d show up to class and bring you a coffee, but forget her order.

Whatever, it’s probably better this way. ”

I remember feeling so mad at her in that moment for making him doubt himself.

Sure, Logan wasn’t perfect. No one is. But he’s kind, generous, and loyal.

The idea that he wasn’t enough was ridiculous.

He did kind and thoughtful things for me all the time, he still does, because that’s just the kind of person he is.

And maybe we spent a lot of time together, but he did make time for her.

I don’t know what she expected, because we were in college, lived together, and were best friends, so of course, we spent a lot of time together.

“Hey,” I’d said softly, nudging his shoulder with my own. “That’s not true, okay? You’re one of the best people I know. Screw her if she can’t see that.”

He scoffed out a bitter laugh, his gaze fixed on the coffee table. “You’re biased. ”

“Maybe,” I admitted, nudging him again with a small grin. “But I’m also right.”

Logan didn’t argue, but he didn’t look at me, either.

He sat there beside me, staring at nothing, with his shoulders hunched.

His tears were silent when they fell, and I didn’t want to push him to talk, so I’d run my thumb over his cheek every so often to wipe them away.

I wanted him to know I was there and he wasn’t alone.

Finally, after what felt like hours of us sitting on the couch together, he turned to look at me.

“Can I—” He stopped, clearing his throat. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

I was caught off guard by the question because we’d never shared a bed before. “What?”

“I just...” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking down at his lap, and I hated that he was nervous to ask me this. “I don’t want to be alone right now. I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

Something in his voice broke me. He sounded so lost and so unlike himself that I didn’t even hesitate. If he needed someone to sleep next to, I wanted that person to be me.

“Yeah,” I said, standing and holding out a hand. “Of course you can. Come on.”

He looked up at me then, and there was something so vulnerable in his eyes.

Part of me wanted to pull him into a hug and never let go.

Instead, I waited with my hand outstretched until he finally took it.

He didn’t say anything as I led him to my room; he just climbed into my bed, pulled the blankets up to his chest, and waited for me.

I slid onto the other side of the mattress and for a moment, we laid there side by side, until I finally reached out and pulled him into me.

I didn’t think about it, I just did it. It felt right.

And I’m glad I did because he melted right into me with a long exhale, snuggling closer like he’d been waiting for that moment, too.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“Anytime,” I said, meaning it.

And I did, because that night when I felt him curl into me, I knew I’d never say no to him. I’d let him crawl into my bed every night for the rest of our lives if he needed to. That night, I realized how much space he took up in my heart.

We didn’t talk about it when he woke up, but the next time he was sad, or tired, or lonely, or even had one too many drinks, he’d ask again. And again. Until he no longer needed to ask, and it was just…us.

Now, when we stay the night at either of our places, we always sleep together, and if we cuddle or wake up wrapped around each other, it’s not a big deal. I love being his person and his comfort, just like he’s mine.

Logan’s phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me out of my thoughts, and he stirs beneath me. His hand brushes against mine, where it’s still draped over him. “Morning,” he says, voice groggy.

I smirk, but don’t move away from him. I’m not ready to untangle our bodies and face the day yet. “Morning, sunshine.”

“You’re heavy,” he grumbles, eyes still closed.

“Haven’t got any lighter since last time,” I quip back.

Logan cracks one eye open to look me in the eye. “You could at least pretend to feel bad about crushing me in my sleep.”

“Crushing?” I laugh. “Please. I’m the perfect size for a human blanket. You’re lucky to have me. ”

“Lucky, sure,” he repeats dryly. I smile at him and move so he can get out of bed.

I watch him as he walks to the bathroom and realize I should stop ogling my best friend in his tight boxer briefs. Jumping out of bed before he comes back into the room, I grab a hoodie from the chair in the corner of his room and pull it on as I head to the kitchen. “Coffee?” I yell out to him.

“Please,” Logan responds from inside the bathroom.

I head to the kitchen and start the machine, but as I wait for the coffee to brew, my thoughts drift right back to Logan.

I’ve been trying not to think about him in the shower, but my mind won’t quit.

It shouldn’t have been so hot. He’s my best friend and a man , but I can’t get the image of him stroking his cock out of my head.

I shouldn’t have walked in, but I had to piss. Which is ironic considering I didn’t even end up going after that. Completely forgot about it, to be honest.

For once, I was actually trying to be on time, and in my rush, I didn’t use the bathroom before I left.

But still, I know I could’ve knocked—or just waited.

Instead, I stepped inside without thinking twice, because it’s Logan.

We’ve been in the bathroom together more times than I can count.

Sure, it’s usually just brushing our teeth, but back when we had an actual shower curtain and only one bathroom, he’d be showering while I shaved, and it was never a big deal.

But when I walked in and saw him jerking off, it felt like the air was knocked from my lungs because I didn’t expect to see that . I should’ve apologized and gotten the hell out of there.

But I didn’t.

I stared at him, completely rooted in place.

I’ve never looked at another man and wondered what it would feel like to touch him.

Not even Logan. Not in all the years we’ve been friends.

Not during our college years when we shared everything.

Not when we were drunk, half-asleep, and barely dressed.

I’ve never questioned how I felt about him—until now.

There’s no way he didn’t notice me staring, even if he hasn’t said a word about it since. I couldn’t get myself to move. I stood there, completely caught up in watching him stroke himself like he didn’t care I was there. Or maybe like he wanted me to be.

And I don’t know why I liked it so much. I only know that I did.

I stood there so long that he continued stroking himself again, and it felt like he was daring me to make a choice: leave, watch, or join. My brain was screaming at me to pick one, and part of me wanted to stay, to watch.

Maybe even touch.

I liked the way he touched himself, the little breathy grunts and moans that slipped out, and the way he didn’t hold back, even with me in the room.

That level of confidence was sexy as hell.

But as much as I wanted to listen to him, I panicked and left because that’s what I thought I should do.

It turned me on, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

Because why now ? Why him ? Why like this ?

Why did I get hard watching my best friend jerk off in the shower like it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?

The whole thing felt...intimate. Like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to. I run a hand down my face like that’ll do a damn thing to unsee it. I need to get it together and stop trying to imagine what my best friend looks like when he comes. Or how he sounds.

“Earth to Ryder,” Logan calls out, already holding a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

I blink, snapping out of it. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at the coffee like it’ll brew faster if you glare at it long enough, but it’s done. Back to zoning out, huh?”

I roll my eyes and grab a mug for myself that says, ‘Blow me. I’m hot,’ and roll my eyes as Logan laughs to himself.

“Just tired. This’ll help,” I say, motioning to the coffee.

Once it’s doctored up, I take a sip, hoping the heat will jolt me out of the not-very-innocent daydream I was having about the way Logan’s hand moved in the shower.