"At least you're honest," he says, and there's something in his tone I can't quite place. Something almost... appreciative?
We approach Town Square, where the holiday market stalls are being set up. The air smells like pine, wood smoke, and cinnamon-sugar pretzels.
That's when I feel a prickle of awareness at the back of my neck. I don't turn around, but something shifts in Logan's posture. Hisshoulders straighten almost imperceptibly, and his grip on my hand tightens just a fraction.
"She's over by the gazebo," he murmurs, voice deliberately neutral. "With the couple from earlier."
I keep my eyes forward, refusing to look, though curiosity nips at me. "What do you want to do?"
Before he can answer, his arm slides around my waist, drawing me against his side in a gesture that feels protective, possessive, and utterly natural. My breath catches, my body fitting against his like it belongs there.
"Just keep walking," he says, his voice lower, closer to my ear. "You're doing great."
I'm not doing anything except trying not to spontaneously combust. His arm around me is solid and warm, my shoulder tucked perfectly under his, my hip pressed to his thigh. It's the closest I've been to anyone in... longer than I care to admit.
"I'm sorry," I blurt, immediately regretting it. "I mean, I'm probably not very convincing. I don't exactly have a ton of relationship experience to draw from."
Logan looks down at me, surprise flickering across his face. "Could've fooled me," he says, and there's no teasing in his tone. "You seem... natural."
I almost laugh. If he could hear the chaos inside my head right now, "natural" would be the last word he'd use.
Colored lights cast shifting patterns across Logan's features as he steps in front of me, still holding my hand but now facing me directly.
"So," he says, a hint of hesitation in his voice that wasn't there before. "We should probably be prepared in case we need to... you know."
I blink at him. "In case we need to...?"
"Kiss." The word hangs between us, crystallizing in the cold air. "If we're supposed to be dating, we should look comfortable with each other. Not like strangers faking it."
My heart slams against my ribs with such force I'm amazed he can't see it through my coat. "Oh. Right. That… that makes sense."
"We could practice," he suggests, and is it my imagination, or does his voice sound slightly rougher? "Just so it doesn't look awkward if the moment comes up."
Practice kissing. With Logan Price. Right now.
"Sure," I hear myself say, as if this is the most reasonable suggestion in the world and not something that's short-circuiting my entire nervous system. "That's... pragmatic."
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Pragmatic. Exactly."
He glances around, then guides me a few steps to the side, into the shadowed space between the massive Christmas tree and the brick wall of the coffee shop. Not completely hidden, but sheltered from direct view.
Logan steps closer, and suddenly the air feels too thick to breathe properly. He's so tall that I have to tilt my head back to look at him, and when I do, I find his eyes focused on mine with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
Where do I put my hands? What if my lips are chapped? What if I'm terrible at this and he can tell it's been years since I've kissed anyone? What if—
"Savannah," he says softly, interrupting my spiral. "We don't have to if you're uncomfortable."
"No! I mean—" I take a breath, steadying myself. "It's fine. I'm fine. Just... overthinking."
His smile softens. "Overthinking what?"
"Everything," I admit. "Where to put my hands. Whether my breath is okay. If I remember how to do this properly."
I expect him to laugh, but he doesn't. Instead, his expression turns thoughtful, almost tender. "Put your hands wherever feels natural," he says, voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Your breath is fine. And I'm pretty sure kissing is like riding a bike, you don't forget."
Before I can respond, he lifts one hand to my face. His palm cups my cheek, fingers sliding into my hair, thumb gently brushing my cheekbone. It's such a careful touch, so unexpectedly gentle from someone so physically strong, that I nearly forget to breathe.
"Okay?" he asks, and I nod, unable to form words.
