I couldn’t get out of the Union fast enough, but had to pee after class, and found Logan waiting outside the women’s room when I was finished.
“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.
“Did you just stalk me to the bathroom?”
He shrugged. “It was a safe bet you’d come here. I think we all have to use the bathroom, or just gather ourselves, after those two-hour sessions,” he said.
As if proving his point, Connor walked out of the men’s room, looking like he’d been put through the wringer. And he’d barely spoken during class.
“Fuck, I don’t know why I signed up for this thing,” he said as he joined us. “Oh yeah, Coach gave me no fucking choice, that’s why.”
Logan and I both laughed, and Connor went on, “You guys want to hit the food court? I figured everybody could hear my stomach in there.”
“I couldn’t hear it,” I said.
“Not over mine,” Logan said. “Yeah, I’m with you. Megan? Hungry?” He seemed happy about Connor coming, and I wasn’t sure if it was because there was a better chance I’d stick around and talk to him, or because he welcomed the idea of Connor as some sort of buffer.
“I’m in,” I said. We all left the hallway with the meeting rooms and moved to the first floor, where the large food court was.
“Unless you two wanted to be alone? Did I just invite myself into something?” Connor asked as we entered the food court area.
“No, you didn’t interrupt anything,” I quickly said. Logan didn’t answer either Connor’s question or my response.
We slung our backpacks on the chairs at a table, then set about choosing which vendor we each wanted. Connor headed to the Pizza Hut. Logan held back until I went to the Burger King, then followed me there.
“So, about last week,” he said while we stood in line.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s over and done. Like I said that night, I was pissed for half a second, but you did us a favor by changing your mind.”
“I didn’t change my mind. Not at all,” he said.
I gave him an “oh, please” look and then placed my order. He tried to pay for mine, but I didn’t allow it. When we’d both made our orders and were waiting for our food, he came at it again.
“Look, yeah, I dropped the ball. But not for whatever reason you were thinking,” he said.
“And what reason do you think I was thinking?” The circular logic was verging on making me dizzy.
He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Fuck if I know. Or can put it into words. I’m a guy, Megan. I’m not equipped to articulate the nuances of a woman’s mood.”
I laughed, his words amusing me because they were so true and he was so earnest.
“But I know vibe shifts. And there was definitely that,” he added.
“Brought on byyourvibe shift,” I clarified.
“No doubt. Which actually had nothing to do with you.”
“Hard to see that,” I said.
“No, it’s true. I couldn’t put it into words that night. And then I didn’t want to put it in a text. I thought maybe I’d see you at a party over the weekend.”
“I was blissfully drunk and making out with a guy Friday, so nope, didn’t seek out a hockey party.”
He winced, and I tried to ignore the flash of satisfaction I felt. Childish. And, of course, I didn’t add the part about comparing that guy’s kisses with Logan’s.
Or that there was really no comparison.
“Right. So, after we eat, maybe I can explain what—”
