Page 7 of Straight to You

LOGAN

Y esterday was strange.

I don’t know how to explain it, and I’m still sorting through it all.

I thought I’d buried those feelings for Ryder for good, but now they’re louder than ever, pressing in from every side, and I have no idea how to quiet them.

But I’ll figure it out. I have to, before I say, or do, something I can’t take back.

“What’s the plan for today?” I ask.

Ryder’s face lights up like he’s been waiting for me to ask that. “What do you say we get out of here?”

I glance over at him, already guessing where this is going. We tend to be creatures of habit, so while we have our Friday night ritual, we also do the same thing every Saturday morning when it’s in season and we’re not busy.

“Farmer’s market?”

“Yup,” he says with that familiar spark in his voice. “It’s supposed to be sunny today, so I was thinking we could do our usual. I’ll even buy you a new candle. ”

“You want to buy me a new candle? Well, I’m not turning that down,” I say with a grin.

“Just let me brush my teeth and change,” Ryder says casually, brushing past me and heading toward the dresser drawer I cleared out for him a few months ago. He opens the top drawer and pulls out a gray t-shirt.

“You’re really leaning into this whole ‘drawer’ situation,” I say, reaching for my sweatshirt from the hook by the door.

He snorts, tugging the shirt over his head. “Would you rather I keep raiding your closet? ‘Cause I can do that too. Happily.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t still do that anyway.

” I don’t mind, though. I kind of love it.

It stirs up a possessive feeling in me, knowing he’s walking around in my clothes.

I know I shouldn’t have those thoughts about my best friend, but I’m only human, and if it were up to me, he’d wear them every day.

“Yeah, well, your stuff’s comfortable,” Ryder acknowledges, pulling his shirt down. “You buy the good cotton.”

“Glad I can keep you in luxury. Anything else you need? Slippers? A monogrammed robe?” I deadpan.

“Don’t tempt me. I’d rock the hell out of a monogrammed robe.”

I shake my head at him, knowing he so would.

Twenty minutes later, we’re in Ryder’s car heading toward the market. His phone is connected, playing some chill alternative music I’ve grown to like over the years.

The market is already in full swing by the time we get there, with tents stretched down both sides of the block.

“Let’s see if they have those honey sticks again,” Ryder says, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black hoodie as we start walking through the booths .

“You’re obsessed,” I snicker, falling in step beside him.

“They’re good!” he shoots back with a big smile on his face.

Ryder would spend hundreds of dollars every time we came if I didn’t reel him in. I love his enthusiasm, but there are so many things we don’t need.

The first twenty minutes or so pass in a blur as we browse the booths. We’ve managed to turn the farmer’s market into a whole experience by chatting with all the vendors, sampling their products, and talking about their booth branding.

Once we reach the candle booth I usually buy from, Ryder turns to me with a grin. “How about that new candle?”

“Let’s see what they’ve got,” I say, trying to reel in my rapidly beating heart over such a small gesture. Fuck, this is not good.

There are sampler candles lined up with the lids off, stacked neatly along the display. Ryder picks one up and reads the label out loud, clearly amused.

“‘Cozy Forest.’ Wow. A scent and a vibe.” He gives it a sniff, then scrunches his nose. “Nope. Smells like a car air freshener.”

I let out a little laugh, then quickly glanced to see if the candle vendor I’ve bought from many times had heard him, but thankfully, she’s deep in conversation with another customer.

I reach for a different candle, lift it to my nose, and breathe in deeply. It smells like fresh rain mixed with something smoky; it’s unique, but I think I like it.

“I like this one,” I say, holding it out to Ryder. “Thoughts?”

He leans in and sniffs. “Hmm, yeah. I like it enough to smell it in your apartment for the next month. ”

My stomach does a stupid little flip at that. “Glad it meets your incredibly high standards,” I say, pretending it doesn’t affect me.

Shit, I need to get it together.

Ryder swaps it for a non-sample candle, then takes out his card.

After he pays, we grab the candle, say thank you, and turn to head to the next booth.

It’s mostly bins of old posters, and as expected, Ryder starts flipping through them.

I can’t relate to the people who peruse the market from the middle of the road because Ryder always wants to be up close and personal, which is also why we always leave with so much.

As I turn to look at the other booths ahead of us, I still.

The guy from Pine Bar, Kyle, is here, and he’s looking right at Ryder. I turn to see if Ryder’s noticed him yet, but he’s still flipping through posters, completely unaware.

The same angry feeling from last night coils in my gut.

Why the fuck does this dude keep showing up where we are?

“Logan,” Ryder calls out to me. “Come look at this poster.”

“Uh,” I say, hesitantly. Unsure if I should address Kyle being here, or ignore it with the hope he’ll leave. The last thing I want is a repeat of the last two Friday nights, where we’ve had to cut our plans short because Kyle doesn’t understand social cues or boundaries.

But he must see the concern etched on my face because his smile falters. “What’s wrong?”

I tilt my head slightly, and his gaze follows mine. It takes only a moment before he sees Kyle looking right at him, and, just like last night, Kyle starts walking right toward us as if one glance after staring someone down for minutes at a time is an invitation .

Ryder shifts beside me, his body going still in a way that makes every instinct in me go on alert. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the tension radiating off him. Here we go again.

Kyle stops in front of us. “Hey, didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

Ryder forces a polite smile. “Small town,” he says, voice neutral.

“Right,” Kyle nods, then glances over at me. “I was told strangers stick out around here. Isn’t that right, Logan?”

“Just a fact,” I reply flatly.

Kyle smiles again, but there’s no friendliness behind it. If anything, it feels disingenuous. He breaks eye contact with me and turns his attention entirely to Ryder now.

“If you ever wanted to show me around, I’d be into that. Assuming you’re not too...busy.” His eyes flick between us like he’s trying to decode something.

I shift slightly, stepping to put myself between them, so that if Kyle wants to talk to Ryder, he’ll have to do it through me. My stance is casual, but I’m fully aware of how close I am now. And so is Kyle.

He isn’t deterred, of course. Instead, he takes our silence as an invitation to keep pressing.

“Unless you two are…?” He lets the question hang in the air like he’s leaving room for Ryder to laugh it off and say, “God, no, we’re just friends,” then invite him to grab drinks later. But I know he’s not asking if we’re together, he’s hoping we’re not.

Ryder doesn’t take the bait. “Listen, man,” he starts. “I don’t know if I somehow gave you the wrong idea, but I’m not interested.”

Kyle hums, seeming completely unfazed by Ryder’s response. “Another time, then.” He lingers a second too long with a smirk on his face before turning and walking away.

Ryder exhales slowly. “What is with that guy? He’s everywhere, and he won’t quit. I don’t know how much clearer I could’ve been.”

“No kidding,” I mutter, still watching the spot where Kyle vanished.

I glance at him and notice he’s tense again, like he’s still processing whatever just happened.

“Wanna grab bagels and coffee and head down to the lake?”

When he finally looks at me, the tension in his face eases just slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Cool. Let’s grab them and get out of here before he comes back asking for directions to our front doors.”

That earns a faint huff of laughter, barely there, but I’ll take it.