“No problem,” I said. “My mouth is going to be too full of burger to talk anyway. This looks amazing.”
Jane gave me an assessing look, and I did a “shoo” motion with my hand. She left and joined Stick with his friends a few tables away.
“So, can we talk about Friday night?” Logan asked after we’d each taken a few bites of our food.
“What about it?” I said. “I told you, my roommate wasn’t feeling well. And you obviously had your hands full. There’s nothing to talk about.”
I swear there wasn’t any jealousy in my voice. There wasn’t. If anything, it was more pity for poor Ches.
But something permeated Logan’s brain and he smiled. A devastating, you-don’t-fool-me-for-a-second smile.
“Oh, Megan, there’slotsto talk about.”
Chapter9
I lookedto Jane and Stick, heavy in conversation with his friends, and knew I wouldn’t be rescued anytime soon. And what was more, I didn’t really want to be. I might not be on sure footing, but I found I wanted to have more alone time with Logan.
“Okay. Talk. Though it seems pretty cut and dried to me,” I said.
“It does? How’s that, exactly?” he said before taking a bite of his burger and motioning for me to go on.Damn.I’d wanted him to do the talking. Takehistemperature. Because mine, after being so close to him all night long, was definitely spiking.
“Well,” I started, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible, not drenched with thoughts of how nicely shaped his mouth was while I watched him chew, “my girls and I went to a hockey party, looking for maybe hookups, and met some hockey players. One was really cute and I wanted to… you know.” I faltered in my cadence, and he picked up on it immediately.
“Say it,” he said. “What did you want to do? And let’s be really clear, since we just came from a place where it’s all about being truthful with ourselves.” His grin was teasing, but I felt the truth in his words. “Say it, Megan. What did you want to do when you saw me?”
Oh, this boy was much too full of himself.
And damn if it wasn’t earned.
“Who’s to say it was you? You’d just walked in. I had already made my move with another guy, and he passed. You were the consolation prize, Straw.”
He had a fry halfway to his mouth and there was a complete freeze in motion. The fry dropped from his grasp and landed back in the basket (nice catch!), and he laughed, deep and throaty (nice laugh!).
“The bullshit in that one sentence alone? Record level.”
I shrugged. “How would you know for sure?” I took a long drink of my beer, liking the coldness as it slid through my increasingly warm body. I wanted to press the glass against my cheek, but knew that would just feed his narrative.
“First of all, not one of those guys would turn you down if you made the play you made on me.”
“Because you’re all whores?” I said.
He laughed again. “No. Well, yes, actually. But no, because nobody—whore or no—would turn you down.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Oh, you’re good,” I said.
I expected the devilish grin again, but it wasn’t there. Instead, his gaze was serious as he leaned closer to me and said, “I am good. But that was no bullshit.”
Another sip of beer. Another wish that I could just pour the thing over my head and douse myself. “You said ‘first of all,’ like there was more.”
He sat back, took a drink of his Coke, and studied me. “Second, if you had just been shot down, you wouldn’t have taken another shot so soon.”
He was right. I would have gone slinking back to my dorm room. Which was kind of what happened in the end, anyway.
“And I say that because, smooth and direct as you were with me—and believe me, I appreciated it—I could tell it wasn’t a play you regularly make.”
Busted. Respond with bravado or bravery? “That’s true. I had a boyfriend through high school, and I—”
“One? All the way through?”
