Page 22 of The Player Next Door

“Noah?” he heard her say. Great. Another guy who was going to try and sleep with her. Logan put his arm over her shoulder and looked down at the guy, who was a few inches shorter than Logan with sandy-brown, curly hair. His shirt said something in what looked like runes, so clearly a nerd friend of hers. Logan wasn’t used to competing with that demographic, but he was pretty sure his face would win out.

He had a damn good face, after all.

“Didn’t think this was your scene,” Clare was saying.

The guy shrugged, a microbrew in his hand. “More mine than yours,” he said. “Who’s this?”

“This is my, um, friend.”

Logan waved lazily, now leaning more heavily on Clare.Fuck, I am drunk. Why the hell did I get this drunk?

Noah gave him an odd, searching look. “Guess you’re more surprising than we thought,” he said, and Logan didn’t know what the fuck that meant, but it felt judgy as hell, so he glowered down at Noah. At least the other guy had the sense to look intimidated.

Clare laughed lightly and waved. “Exactly. I’ll see you Monday,” she said, starting to move forward again.

Noah gave them another look. “You got him okay? He seems heavy,” he said. “Do you need help?”

Logan decided to turn down his glower by two notches. Making sure a friend got home safely and wasn’t in trouble was a decent thing, so maybe this Noah wasn’t a complete piece of shit. Didn’t mean Logan had to like him, though.

“We’re fine,” Clare said cheerfully, shifting so her shoulder was more securely under his armpit. “See you,” she said again, and muscled them outside.

It was humid but the air was cooler than it had been in the crush of people inside, at least. Logan took a deep breath, trying and failing to clear his head. He gave up trying to sober up and tucked his nose into the top of her head, breathing her in. He liked how she smelled, like sugar and vanilla and those things she was always baking. Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something that could be qualified asthoughtlessly affectionate, but there was a first time for everything.

Clare ducked out from under his arm, not commenting on his sudden PDA, and opened the passenger-side door for him. Logan transferred his weight to the door, resting his chin on his folded arms on top of it. His face was almost level with hers, and he impulsively tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey,” he said in a soft, goofy voice that didn’t sound anything like him.

“Hey,” she replied, sounding a little dazed. He let his fingertips trail down the side of her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed before she stepped back, out of his reach. “Keys?” she asked briskly, and okay, sure, he probably wouldn’t have kissed someone as drunk as he was, either.

Clare climbed in and spent a good chunk of time adjusting his seat, since her feet didn’t even touch the pedals how he had it. She was very deliberate, methodical, and her earrings—tiny, dangly silver arrows—swung gently as she checked the mirrors. A streetlight threw a square of light on her face through the window and Logan reclined his seat a little farther to make himself more comfortable. “I fucked this up, didn’t I?” he asked before he realized what he was saying.

Oh, well. Just add it to Future Logan’s list.

Clare pulled out into traffic, slowing down to let a crowd of guys in button-down shirts and khaki shorts finish jaywalking. “Fucked what up?”

Logan covered his face with his hands. “You hate me and my friends.”

“I liked Sam,” she countered. A red light flicked to green and she started again.

“She’s nicer than she seems, right?”

Clare’s lips curved up slightly. “And Brooks?”

“Dumber than he seems. And cheats like hell at basketball.”

“Ah,” she said, sounding amused.

“Ahwhat? Whatah?” he asked, well aware this was probably the most pathetic he had ever been in front of a woman, but for some reason it didn’t seem to matter as much with Clare.

“Nothing. Justah.It’s just a vocalization sayingI heard you.” She shrugged and turned on her signal. “You guys seemed a little tense.”

“He’s a dick,” Logan said. And then, because he just really fucking hated Future Logan, “He was hitting on you, you know.”

“Is that what that was,” Clare said, like she was fighting a grin.

“Yeah, he’s about as subtle as a punch to the face.” Clare lost the battle with the grin and Logan leaned his head back.

“You know, for a bit there, I thought you were mad at me,” she admitted.

Logan jerked his head up. “What? No, not you. That—no, not you. Just him.”