“So they’re all still there?”
“Probably.”
“And you just . . . left?”
He nodded. Shifting on his feet. The night pressed in blue and grainy behind him, streetlight trapped in the drifting flakes.
Who walked out of a party at their own house because some random girl from their old college phoned them? Logan Kemp made absolutely zero sense to me.
“Can you pull your hood up or something?” I hissed.
He peered over my shoulder, and I moved to block his view of Jenna and Lindsey. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“Something like that,” I muttered. “Just hide your face, okay?” If they saw Logan here, I was never going to hear the end of it. It wasn’t like they were friends with Sharla, but still. The fewer people who knew about this weird rendezvous, the better. Because it was only going to get weirder.
Logan pulled up the hood on his coat, and I stepped back to let him in. He took off his shoes, already coated with a layer of snow, and I barely managed to hustle him through the living room before Jenna and Lindsey realized what I was doing.
“Wait, is he sleeping over?” Jenna asked right as Lindsey said, “You didn’t close the front door!”
Oops. I shoved Logan into my bedroom and ran back to remedy the situation.
“You’re not going to introduce us?” Jenna stood with a hand planted on her hip.
“No introduction necessary.” I scrambled for an explanation. “It’s a business thing.”
Lindsey’s eyes widened. “Like, what kind of business?”
I locked the door and strode back through the room to the hall. “No, nothing sketchy, I promise. It’s an art thing.”
Jenna still looked skeptical. “Did he convince you to strip for a self-portrait or something?”
“Nope, but I wish I could make money sitting bare-assed on a stool.” I waved at the two of them, then slipped into my room to,“If he tells you to touch his penis for a promotion, say no!”
Definitely Jenna on that one. She’d worked at a spa run by an old European dude for about three weeks over the summer until he made it clear just what he expected from his staff.
“She’s right. Always say no to that.” Logan stood barely a foot in front of me. I shut the door, and the space shrank by half. My bedroom wasn’t big on a good day. Single bed with a quilt my mom made me, thrift-store dresser, and a desk. With Logan there, the walls leaned in to eavesdrop.
Melted snow still clung to the ends of his hair as he shrugged off his coat, then picked up the Tim’s cups he’d set on my dresser. “It’s decaf.”
I took one. The cup was hot against my fingers. “Thanks.” My heart was already beating like I’d taken a shot of espresso.Why was Logan here?And why couldn’t I stop thinking about whatever girl was chasing him down at his party? Again, so many questions.
Logan sat on the edge of my bed, and it protested with a squeak. I tried to perch myself on the lip of the desk, which resulted in my knocking a jar of pens onto the floor. There wasn’t room for me to pull out the chair with Logan’s knees in the way, so after picking up after myself, I shuffled over and leaned against the dresser.
“I’m not going to bite.” Logan patted the bed next to him.
I hesitated, then flipped off the lid to my cup to buy myself some time. I breathed in the scent of dark roast to clear my nose of his cologne, then blew on the top. “There’s something I have to tell you?—”
“I got that much.”
“But you didn’t have to come over here.”
He took a sip of his coffee, shifting on the bed. “The party wasn’t really my jam.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Hot girls throwing themselves all over you isn’t really your thing?” I forced myself not to tag on “anymore” at the end of the sentence.
“You don’t know if they were hot.”
I snorted and took a sip of coffee, burning the tip of my tongue.
