I look away before Eli can see how badly I want that, too. Fuck, I’m so screwed.
The seven hourbus ride to the hotel is loud—full of laughter and trash talk and Eli grinning at his phone every ten seconds like he’s in a Hallmark movie. I laugh at the right moments. Say all the right things. But the whole time, my thoughts keep drifting to the guy sitting five rows behind me.
Todd hasn’t looked my way since we goton the bus.
Now we’re unloading out front, grabbing gear and overnight bags while Coach barks room assignments. Mine and Todd’s names are called together, and my stomach does a backflip.
Great.
The elevator ride up is quiet. Nottense, exactly. Just…cautious. Like we’re both playing some unspoken game of pretend. Acting like we don’t know what the other looks like naked. Acting like we didn’t just spend the last couple of weeks wrapped around each other like limbs and sheets were interchangeable.
The second we get into the room, I head straight for one of the beds and drop my bag with a thud. “Dibs,” I say, trying for easy.
Todd gives me a sideways look before setting his bag down on the other mattress. “Didn’t realize we were calling it.”
I shrug and toe off my sneakers, the silence stretching. The distance between us is only a few feet, but it might as well be miles.
He turns toward his bag, starts to unzip it—and I move.
Two strides, and I’m behind him. He straightens a little, but doesn’t step away.
I lean in close, voice low near his ear. “If you think we’re sharing a room and not sharing a bed… you must’ve bumped your head.”
He freezes.
Then I add, a little softer, a little more pointed: “Is that why you’ve been acting different?”
His breath catches, just for a second.
I pull back enough to meet his eyes as he looks back atme, giving him a half-smile that feels like bravado and hope tangled together. “Because I gotta be honest, Shaw… I’m not any less into you just because we crossed state lines.”
TWENTY-FOUR
TODD
Something loosens in my chest.Just unknots, like a fist unclenching after holding on too long.
I was wrong yesterday. Logan’s not pulling away. He’s still here. Still him. Stillours—whatever the hell that means right now.
And the way he’s looking at me?
Yeah, I’m a goner.
A stupid smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it. I let out a quiet breath and murmur, “Is this your way of saying you’re clingy outside of your apartment, too?”
Logan swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, slow and intentional, his eyes dropping to my mouth and then dragging back up to meet mine.
“Yeah,” he says, voice lower now. “And possessive, before you ask.”
Heat curls in my stomach.
I try to play it cool, but I think my smile betrays me. “Good to know.”
He moves to my side and steps a little closer, and I don’tmove away. My pulse kicks up, but not from nerves this time. From something steadier. Something solid.
Want.
Wantinghim.
