“Um…yeah,” she eventually forces out. “Though I probably would’ve watched more Russian movies.” She shrugs. “I didn’t discoverElfuntil a few years ago, and I can’t say that I loveloveit, you know? It’s a great movie and very Christmasy, but I don’t rewatch it every year like just about everyone I know. I wasn’t going to watch it this year…but here we are.”
“If you don’t want to watch it, then why did you suggest it?” I set the pasta on the counter and add the sauce she threw together.
“Because you mentioned it. Several times.”
For a moment, we’re silent. Then Logan barks out a laugh. Yana joins in, and despite my best efforts, I do too. Damn, she got me. I kept pushing after she suggested an old soviet movie and a couple others I’d never heard of.
“If you don’t want to watch it, we really don’t have to. We should watch something you like,” I say, stirring the pasta into the sauce. “It doesn’t matter whether I watchElffor the hundredth time or not.”
I hold her gaze, and when she watches me just as intently, my body sizzles with heat. It’s probably the alcohol and our proximity. There’s no way I’m really thirsting after my friend’s girl in a way that makes me imagine the most reckless kind of shit.
Behind us, Logan clears his throat, breaking the moment. She instantly turns to face him, putting her back to me.
“I’m with Cam. We showed up unannounced and threw your schedule off, so please, don’t change anything because of us.”
“Thank you.” She turns off the stove, ducking her head for a moment. “Chicken is ready.”
“I’m done with the salad,” Logan states, lifting the bowl from the counter. “How about the pasta?”
I hum. “Pasta is ready too.”
Yana looks between us, a mischievous smile tipping up her lips. “The last person to say ‘Aye, Captain’ sets the table. One, two, three?—”
“Aye, Captain.” She and Logan shout in unison.
I arch a brow, doing my best not to roll my eyes. “You’re like kids.”
Logan says, “Look who’s talking,” but I ignore him.
I don’t mind setting the table, actually. It’ll give me a minute to myself, and I fucking need it.
“Go sit. I’ll bring out plates and silverware in a minute.” I nod toward the dining table.
Without a word, they shuffle out of the kitchen. As I gather what I need, I check the time. It’s already seven. Thank fuck. Only a couple more hours before I can escape this hell and hole up in the bedroom.
I’m already third-wheeling, and the later it gets, the more obvious it becomes.
This old movieturns out to be pretty funny. We laugh at the absurdity of some of the scenes, and occasionally Logan asks Yana to skip back a few seconds because he didn’t catch the subtitles.
Overall, the evening has gone much better than I expected. I don’t understand why Yana considers this a Christmas movie, but I decide not to question her.
I’d probably put my foot in my mouth again, and I don’t need to ramp up the tension in here. It’s hard enough having to sit near them while they’re glued to each other.
After dinner, the three of us settle in with our own bottles of beer. Yana’s cheeks are now pink, her eyes glistening in the shimmering light of the TV in the otherwise dark room.
Logan’s got her tucked against him on the couch, his arm slung over her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She fits in his arms perfectly, laughing softly when the subtitles are incorrect, tilting her head toward him when he asks about the movie.
I shouldn’t care.
I tell myself that over and over. But I do. I’m acutely aware of their every move. Every fucking time she wiggles against him, it feels like a blade is sliding under my ribs. This jealousy is unhealthy, especially because I have no right to feel it.
Sure, I saw her first, but Logan was the one who made a move. He asked her on a date; he kissed her first. All I did was piss her off by opening my fucking mouth and acting like an asshole.
I am no match for Logan. He’s always been the golden one, the guy people can’t help but be drawn to, even when we were kids. It’s never bothered me before now. I’ve never been envious of how easy it is for him to get a girl, to make new friends. I’m the prickly one. The asshole. The bad boy to his good guy persona.
My granny used to joke that Logan and I were like yin and yang, balancing each other, complementing one another, bringing out the best in each other. It felt good, thinking I could have that kind of impact on him. It still does, most days. But what’s happening to me as I watch him hold Yana makes me want to tear the whole scene apart.
I’ve never wanted anything that belonged to him. Not until her.
