Tamara sees him and mutters, “Oh, shit,” as she bolts up from the booth. She cuts across the dance floor, heels clacking, eyes wide in full wife-mode as she helps stabilize him along with Hutch.
But then Eli’s gaze finally latches onto me. Or rather, Logan and I, standing far too close, my hand still gripping his wrist, begging him to kiss me.
Eli stops dead. Blinks. Points a wobbly finger. “What the—”
“It’s a dare!” I blurt, voice way too loud. “Truth or Dare, Eli! He was first through the door. I have to!”
For a heartbeat, Eli blinks, sways dangerously, then lets out a booming laugh. “Ohhh aDARE!” He stumbles forward, slinging an arm around Tamara’s shoulders for balance while Reid catches the other. “That’s fine! Hahahaha, that’stotally fine!Youhaveto do a dare, Tallooooolah. You will bring shame on the family if you don’t. Rules are rules!”
He claps Logan on the shoulder so hard, Hutch has to steady them both. “It’s not for real!” he announces loudly into Logan’s face before turning to the entire club, like a PSA. “Not for real, everybody! Just pretend!”
Logan nods and looks back down at me, eyes scanning my face, and for a split second, time stalls. My heart drops clean through the sticky floor.
“Ohhh my god,” Zoe shrieks, slapping the table. “It’s fate.”
Reid tugs at Eli, steering him toward the bar; Tamara groans into her hands. Zoe climbs onto the booth seat, chanting, “KISS! KISS! KISS!” while Charlie and Claire fall over laughing.
Logan keeps his eyes on me, grip tightening on my jaw, voice low enough only I can hear. “You gonna kiss me, baby?”
My pulse is louder than the bass, and before I can stop myself, I’m tugging Logan’s wrist down behind my back, dragging him closer. “Fine,” I hiss, breathless, “but just a little peck, okay? Nothing crazy.”
I surge up onto my toes and press my mouth to his. It’s quick. Simple. A get-it-over-with peck, because I reason that I can give him a proper kiss later when we’re alone.
Except Logan Miller apparently doesn’t do simple.
His arm bands tight around my waist, and suddenly, I’m tipped backward, squeaking into the kiss as he dips me like we’re in the final scene of some ridiculous romcom. Gasps ripple through the crowd, followed by wild applause.
Logan takes full advantage, mouth slanting over mine with a hungry certainty that leaves me dizzy. His kiss is fire and inevitability, tongue sliding against mine as if the dare never mattered at all. His hand cups the back of my neck, keeping me exactly where he wants me, while the other braces behind my thigh to secure me in the dip.
The girls in the booth explode.
“Oh my actual GOD,” Zoe screams, nearly launching herself over the table. “LULU, ARE YOU SEEING YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW?”
Claire’s yelling, “I’M GETTING IT ALL, DON’T WORRY!” into her phone.
Charlie would be shrieking too, but Jake’s already slid in beside her, one arm hooked around her waist, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle. He’s pressing kisses to her bare shoulder when Zoe clocks it, mid-feral scream, and throws up her hands.
“Oh my god, get off her Brooks! Your fiancée is literally missing the start of Lulu’s real-life romcom because you can’t keep your hands to yourself!”
Charlie just giggles harder as Jake smirks smugly against her shoulder.
Tamara groans as if she’s aged ten years on the spot as she watches us. “Jesus Christ,” she mutters into her palms, “you two are gonna kill me.”
And then there’s Eli.
Clamped between Chase and Hutch at the bar, staring slack-jawed for a long, terrible moment before his face relaxes and bellows, “That’snot real! Don’t panic, everybody! THIS IS FAKE NEWS!” He stumbles sideways, sloshing his beer as he squints over at us. “Oh my god, Lulu, he’sdipping you,that’s not—” He breaks off into manic laughter. “It’s just pretend, right guys? IT’S TOTALLY FINE.”
Logan ignores all of it. Ignores the howls, the phones, the feral chaos. His mouth drags from mine only when I’m breathless, pulling me upright but keeping me against his chest, not ready to let go.
His mouth brushes my ear before he takes a step back. “Lesson Eleven, I don’t dojust a little peckwhen it comes to you, Lu.”
My sequins are crushed, my pulse is a runaway train, and for one dizzy, terrifying second, I can’t remember why we ever thought we should keep this secret.
We finally make it back to the booth in one noisy, glitter-streaked migration, with Logan fixed at my side, his hand brushing against mine. Tamara and Hutch half-prop Eli between them, steering him like a malfunctioning shopping cart until he flops down into the cushions.
Chase piles in last, dumping an armful of arcade junk onto the table with the same pride as if he’s won Olympic gold. Zoe rummages through the prizes, grinning.
“Baby, you shouldn’t have,” she purrs, already trying on a pair of plastic yellow daisy sunglasses.
