Page 9

9

LOGAN

S unday night dinners at home felt like my favorite sweatshirt and fuzzy sock combination. They were comfortable and warm and nostalgic. It was great to see my parents and sister, laugh like we used to as my dad made us one of his favorite recipes—salad in a bag and rotisserie chicken. Jordan and I spent three hours there before it was time to head back to the house.

“Thank you, honey.” My mom pulled me into a hug. “I know it’s hard coming back here. We love seeing you.”

“It’s not hard at all! Dad picked us up and will drop us off. Pretty easy actually.” I patted her back and held on a little tighter. I loved my parents so much and wanted us to remain close, even if I lived in another house. After watching how my dad stared at my mom, a smile always on his face, it reminded me how shielded I was here, always surrounded with good examples of love. It was humbling to know that despite having the best example, I’d still struggled with Gage. The photo of me on the wall was right after I started dating Gage, and she had no idea what would happen in the future. I’d been wide-eyed and na?ve.

“It was so good seeing everyone.”

“You and Jordan are growing up so fast.” She sniffed, then released me from the hug. “How do you already look more mature?”

“Because we are,” Jordan chimed in, hugging my mom as well. “Can you believe our girl starts her internship this week? She’s a real librarian now.”

“Librarian intern, Jordan. Very different.”

I knew she teased me because she was proud of me, and I couldn’t stop beaming at my family. They were so supportive. They all were, especially after all that went down with Gage. Just thinking about him reminded me of Em and Quentin. “Hey, do you guys care if we bring two extra people next week?”

My mom’s brows arched. “Who? Preston?”

“He’s always welcome,” my dad said. “Who would you want to come? If you let me know, I can make more food.”

“Quentin is our other housemate and Em. She’s… a freshman who just went through something. She’s going through a hard time, and you are all so supportive and easy to be around, so I figured it might be nice to invite them.” I shrugged. “They might not want to, I guess.”

“They will.” Jordan smiled at me. “Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Hart, you raised a sweetheart who wants to bring everyone under her wing. Quentin and Em are great, but they don’t have a lot of family nearby, and you two are more my parents than my own. You can adopt two more, right?”

“When you say it like that, then we have to,” my mom said, laughing as my little sister climbed up her leg. “Oh, honey, don’t cry.”

“I love Logan.” Carly Jean whimpered.

My heart burst. “Come here, baby girl.”

I opened up my arms and held my five-year-old sister, breathing in her kid shampoo and feeling her heartbeat against mine. She cuddled against me hard, and I rubbed her back. “I heard you were brave this week at school. You learned about the letter C?”

She nodded. “Cat, cup, cook.”

“Whoa, smarty. Slow down.”

She giggled as I held her. This was always the hard part. The goodbye. I kissed her head and squeezed her. “I gotta head out, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Can you bring me a toy next time?”

We all laughed, and I nodded. “Even better. I’ll bring you a book.”

“Yes!” she cheered as I handed her back to my mom. My dad held the car keys and kissed my mom on the cheek.

“Let’s go, girls. I want to get back to put my stretchy pants on.”

The ten-minute drive went too fast, and tears prickled my eyes when my dad gave us both a bear hug.

“Be safe, have fun.”

“Don’t die,” Jordan and I said at the same time.

My dad rolled his eyes, like he did every time we added that to his speech. “You two are ridiculous but I love you both so much. The house going okay?”

“It’s been great. Learning how to cook and get groceries is tough, but it’s a fun kind of learning.”

“Yeah. And we might need to learn how to fix some small things here and there. A dent in the wall, some gaps in the shower.” Jordan’s face twisted. “Whenever you’re free, maybe you could show us, Mr. Hart?”

“I absolutely can.” My dad nodded and pulled us each in for another hug. “I need to get back. Sunday night routine is sacred, you know this.”

“I do.” I laughed.

My sister had a specific bath time, pajama dance, book and bedtime routine. If you missed it by a few minutes, she was a menace. “Love you, Dad.”

He waved one last time before getting in the truck and driving away. My heart felt heavy, but it wasn’t with as much sadness as last time. It was more content. I loved getting to see them, but I enjoyed living here.

“You have the best parents.” Jordan hung her arm around my shoulders. “And you’re such a softie. You like Quentin and Em.”

“Of course I do. Do you not?”

“I like everyone, girl. You’re the one who shut out others after Gage and Rat Queen. Seeing you open up again is amazing. I’m proud of you.” She kissed the top of my head. “I know I joke around all the time, but seriously, I love seeing the old you. The big heart, ball of sunshine Log.”

Chuckling, we went inside to find Preston and Em in a heated videogame battle of sorts. Jordan immediately went to the couch, demanding next round. Video games were more her and Preston’s thing. They never really interested me. I appreciated people who enjoyed them, but I’d rather read every single time.

A rattle came from the kitchen, and my heart sped up. Quentin.

We hadn’t really chatted since we went over the plan with Em yesterday. She agreed to stay a week, and tomorrow, she and Quentin would go talk to her advisor about options. We also agreed that all of us—Quentin, Preston, Jordan, and I—would go with her to get her stuff out of the dorm. It’d be a show of force. That way, if her ex and former friend were there to cause issues, we’d help. Even thinking about it had my pulse racing at the reminders of getting my stuff from Gage’s place. I’d trembled the entire time, and Jordan and Preston had been bulldogs, but it had been such a low moment.

If we could help Em at all during this, then we would.

I wasn’t sure where Quentin was all morning, but I found myself smiling as I walked into the kitchen. His laptop was on the counter, a video playing, as he stood near the stove with a backward hat.

Oh my.

My mouth dried up seeing him in that hat and simple T-shirt and workout shorts. They showed off his thighs and whoa. They were thick.

It wasn’t surprising. He played hockey. He had to be fit. But those shorts were kinda high on his legs, and wow, his legs were hot.

He must’ve heard me because he glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “Staring at me, baby girl?”

“Not that name,” I said, a little breathless. “And no. Well, yes. A little staring at you.”

His grin grew, and I swore he looked proud of himself. I didn’t want my friend, fake boyfriend, to think I was hitting on him, so I immediately asked, “What are you making?”

“Attempting to cook a skillet.” He faced me, his gaze warming as he eyed me up and down. I tugged on the hem of my shirt, second-guessing my bookish tee and baggy shorts.

He looked like a dessert, and I looked like a slob.

“Love your shirt.” His eyes danced. “Want to watch and help? It’s my first real attempt at skilleting.”

“That’s not a verb.” I joined him, smelling various spices and approving. “But this looks great.”

“I’m attempting to eat more protein. It's chicken, peppers, onion, and zucchini. I found some discounted produce today that was about to go bad and snapped it up.” He narrowed his eyes at his laptop, his lips moving as he read off it. “I need to chop them all and then cook them until the chicken is brown.”

“Do you want help?”

Surprise crossed his face. “Yeah, grab a knife, pookie.”

Snorting, I joined him at the counter, and he passed me a chopping knife and two of the vegetables. The zucchini seemed easier, but I tensed. What if I cut them wrong?

“Half-moons,” Quentin said, nudging his hip into mine. “I saw you panic for a second.”

I could do half-moons. Totally. Loved moons. Just, wasn’t sure the best way to get started on it. That was all.

“Oh, Logan.” Quentin chuckled, the sound deep and rumbly. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Uh, no?”

He set his knife and the pepper down, then, to my surprise, put his arms around me so my back was to his chest. We were so close, and oh my god, he smelled good. So good. He was also warm. My stomach fluttered, and it took a lot of effort to not lean into him.

“You’re going to cut it this way—long in half. Then, make easy slices this way.” He held my hands over the knife, our fingers touching and our arms touching, as he cut half the zucchini into moon shapes. “The shape doesn’t matter too much cause I’m eating it regardless of the form.”

He let go of me, the lack of his warmth causing goose bumps down my arms. I shuddered. No other way to describe the way my body reacted. Maybe it was the fact it had been so long since someone was that close to me or the fact he had such a large chest and strong arms…Quentin made me a little dizzy.

“Uh, thanks,” I mumbled, aware that I’d let too much silence go on between us.

“Hey, damnit.” His voice shifted. He set a hand on my forearm, setting the knife down on the cutting board and making me face him. Then, he jerked his hand away. “I’m sorry, Logan. I made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have done that.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face, his lips downturned with worry.

It took my brain two seconds to catch up. “What? I’m not uncomfortable at all. Why would you say that?”

“Because you tensed, and I don’t know, I thought it’d be cute if I showed you how to cut that way, but I got in your personal space.”

“Quentin.” I smiled, hoping that appeased him. Tension radiated off him, which was silly. I wanted to remove the frown lines and worry. “You ever think it’s because I’m attracted to you? I was so distracted from your chest and heat that my brain short-circuited.”

It was safe to tell him this since a) I was a mess and b) he was a mess, so admitting attraction wouldn’t lead to anything. We’d established we were in the friend zone no matter what. Friends could think they were hot. I thought Jordan was gorgeous and Preston handsome. Totally not weird. I also don’t think about their thighs or feeling their muscles though. I shook the thoughts away. This was about convincing Quentin to not worry. I nodded, squeezing his hand. “I don’t mind that you’re in my space, alright? Especially if we’re going to go out together or to dinner. We might have to cuddle or hug or something. You’re hot, and it’s been a long time since any man has been close to me. That’s all.”

He blinked, slowly, before a playful smirk formed. “So you think I’m hot, huh?”

This time I shoved him and went back to cutting the zucchini. “Yes, we established that,” I replied, my face heating. I wasn’t embarrassed, but it wasn’t the ideal conversation. “Are you gonna keep yapping about this or return to your meal I so graciously offered to help with?”

“Mm, I don’t know. I love your blush.” He ran a finger up my neck and over my cheek. Goose bumps exploded head to toe, and he hummed. “Adorable.”

“Are you messing with me?” I held the knife and faced him. I didn’t mean to, but his eyes widened and then we both laughed. Setting it down, I crossed my arms and glared. “You’re teasing me. I don’t like it.”

“Ah, not teasing. You’re just so cute.” His green eyes lit up, and my throat tightened. Quentin truly was insanely attractive and had such a good heart.

I had to do something about this almost-crush I was having.

“Cute, just what every girl wants to hear. Cute. Like a little bug.” I stepped back, but Quentin caught the hem of my shirt and tugged. The action caused me to look at him, and his thick brows furrowed.

“Logan,” he said, his voice more gravelly than normal. Instead of letting go of my shirt, he placed his bare hand on my bare hip, just above my shorts. Heat exploded from the touch, moving like fireworks over my skin as his grip tightened. “You’re beautiful. I might tease you because you blush so easily and I think its fucking sweet, but I wanted to be explicit in case your mind is playing tricks on you. You’re gorgeous, okay?”

My breath disappeared somewhere in my lungs, and I gasped, choking on my own air. “Shit, wrong pipe.” I coughed.

Quentin smiled and moved that hand to my upper back, rubbing it a few times while I caught my breath. How embarrassing. I choked on air. His words took the oxygen out of the air. Me. Gorgeous? Couldn’t be me.

“This is the first time I said something true and kind to a girl, and she chokes after. Not quite sure what the playbook is here.” His dimples popped out, and his eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

“Mortified. Might move houses, schools, and leave the state.”

“Might as well leave the country at that rate.”

I nodded, my own lips curving up. “You’re right. So, this has been fun. I should pack.”

“You can cut the onion first, right? Just a quick chop?”

“Oh, right. Yes. I’ll pack later.”

I couldn’t stop smiling, and it seemed Quentin couldn’t either. We kept grinning at each other, teasing and bumping hips. Our friendship was so easy and fun. Even as we finished his meal, he asked me to sit with him, and we chatted about our bucket lists and dreams.

If I wasn’t careful, my little crush on him was going to grow. Which couldn’t happen. Crushing on Quentin would only end in heartache.