Page 30 of Structure of Love

I plopped into the chair beside the desk.

“Now, first question, how much do you remember?”

“Man, I’ll be honest, I was around sixteen the last time I played. And drunk. I remember very little. Maybe start with an overview of the classes?”

Fair. If you asked me about the mechanics of a board game I’d last played at sixteen, I’d remember fuck-all too. I ran him through the classes, trying to keep it like a ballpark summary.

Logan listened hard, but he was also staring at the player’s handbook like it was the holy writ.

“Any questions?” I had one: How much had sunk in?

“Do I have questions? Yeah. Mostly for god at this point.” He ran a hand over his face. “Why is my memory so shitty?”

“I’m going to let you two have that heart-to-heart. I can’t help you there. Now, I do have a character idea in mind, and you can use it or not. It’s a one-shot, so if you’re not in love with whatever we create, no loss. You won’t need to play the character again. It’s not this coming Monday, but the week after.”

“Alrighty. Sounds like a saner approach, at least until I get back up to speed. Hit me, what’s your idea?”

I laid it out for him, and he liked the sound of it, so we started filling in the character sheet. He at least remembered to fill it out using a pencil. So many new players tried to use a pen, and you just couldn’t—too many of the stats changed as the game progressed.

There was a timid knock at the door.

Logan turned to look, his brows furrowed up in a perplexed manner. “Uh, come in?”

A beat.

Silence.

“Cooooooome in~” he sing-songed.

“Boss, you sure you’re, like, decent?”

I tried to hide a laugh behind one hand and kind of failed.

Logan rolled his eyes before getting up and yanking the door open. “Yes, Bryce, I’ve got pants on.”

“Oh, wow. You really do.” Bryce turned out to be a beanpole-looking kid with a stereotypical geeky air, like he was assembled mostly from acne and technical jargon. “I fully expected someone bent over the desk and jeans around the ankles. Anyway, here’s your lunch.”

I cleared off books so my lunch could be delivered to the desk. I tried hard not to laugh at Bryce’s comment. He held malice behind it, just surprise we weren’t getting it on back here. Logan didn’t even look embarrassed, just exasperated. I liked very much that he wasn’t embarrassed.

Logan took the last of his lunch off the tray and shooed Bryce out. Bryce left with pep in his step. He was not going to be a third wheel, no siree.

Regaining his seat, Logan looked me over, brow quirked. “I see you laughing.”

“I’m actually delighted.” I leaned in to kiss him, softly, lingering until I felt him melt. Straightening, I kept my voice low, a little throaty, just to watch a bite of hunger enter his eyes. “I’m happy people look at us and can tell how much I want you. I’m happy you do nothing to deny it.”

“I can’t imagine even pretending you’re not important,” he murmured, eyes fixated on my mouth.

“Good answer.” I kissed him again, but I knew I played with fire. We both knew it.

I chose, regretfully, to be a good boy and sit back in my chair.

“I know you’d rather eat me,” I teased while picking up the ketchup, “but eat your lunch.”

“I’ll eat my lunch.” Logan’s gaze swept over me. He was without a doubt undressing me with his eyes and wasn’t even trying to pretend otherwise. “But mark my words, at some point, I will eat you.”

Oh, if he only knew.

Gage: *shares picture of Logan*