“You know. For example.” I wanted to bury my head under my pillow. Why had I announced that?
“Jake. Wait, was he one of their forwards?”
I nodded.
“And you hooked up with him?”
I held my hands over my face. “Can we stop talking about this, please?”
“No, I’m just wondering why him. He didn’t seem all that impressive.”
“He was hot, okay? And it’s not like I was getting anywhere with guys on our team.”
Logan turned further to mirror my position and leaned in. “Did you want to?”
“No!” I pushed off the bed.
“But if you did, who would it be?”
“Stop! Seriously. I’m not—I’ve never been into any of the guys on the team. It was the invitational, and it was probably a full moon. It was a moment of weakness.”
“It’s not weakness to want to connect with someone.”
I set my almost-empty coffee down and pressed my hands to my hips. “Thank you, Dr. Kemp. Are we done now?”
He smirked. “I don’t know, are we? I think, as your current boyfriend?—”
I jumped forward and pressed my hands against his mouth. “Can you not talk so loud?”
Logan grabbed my wrists and threw me to the bed. I gasped, landing with a bounce and accidentally pulling him with me. He fell forward with a grunt, his body curled over mine, that grin across his face.
It was no wonder that Shar fell for him. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled with those long lashes . . .
“I knew you were embarrassed by me.”
I tried to catch my breath, extremely aware of his hip pressed into mine. I was going to have to be very, very careful. Four events. Well, five, including the gallery opening, which I would’ve planned to attend anyway.
“There’s one other thing,” Logan said.
“I swear, if you say I have to touch your penis?—”
He let out a guttural laugh. “That’s who I am, right?”
I slipped my hands from his and scooted back, moving out from under him. When I was free and clear, I sat cross-legged. Logan didn’t move. He leaned on his forearms, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed.
“I think you have to stop that,” I murmured. Logan didn’t answer, so I went on. “You made some really shitty mistakes when you were with Sharla. You apologized to her, right?”
He wet his lips and nodded.
“Cool. And I signed away four nights of your life and called your relationship judgment into question, so maybe we can just . . . I don’t know. Start over.”
Logan watched me. “You said it yourself. You and me. Not the same.”
“We’re not.” I fiddled with one of the ties on my quilt. “But we’re not, not the same.” I hated to admit it, and I wasn’t making excuses for him, but I understood a little of what he might’ve experienced at Juniors. When you had goals and ambitions and you had to make other people happy to get there?—
“You know that girl in the photo?” Logan cleared his throat, dropping his eyes.
“The one in the school paper?”
