I felt a hot flush creep up my neck. Logan was describing how I’d lied to him, no matter how generously he framed it. “Back in the day, I guess.” In high school and college, I used to dream of being a writer. The flush crept further north. “I used to write these long lists of ideas for kids’ books. I even took a few writing classes in college.” I had at least a dozen beginnings of stories stored in an old laptop somewhere in my closet. At one point, with my family splintered and Lee off doing her thing, writing had made me feel less alone, the way reading had when I was younger. “It was a pipe dream. I know how hard it is to get published. It feels kind of arrogant to think I’d beat the odds.” I’d stopped writing around the time I’d gotten rejected for grad school and had to devote my time to searching for an entry-level librarian job. Dreams, meet reality.
“I get it,” he said. “I don’t like failing, either. But I’m a big believer in taking risks.”
“You haven’t really failed before, Harvard. Talk to me after you do.”
“Fair enough.” He picked up his mug and smiled into it. “If you ever need to borrow some arrogance, I guess I’ve got it in spades.”
I laughed in surprise, and after that a comfortable silence fell between us. I studied the book catalogue, trying to focus on purchases for the library, but the thought of those old stories abandoned on my laptop dogged me.If I ever wrote again, what stories would I tell?Maybe a story about a girl who didn’t feel comfortable in the world, who felt alone and overlooked, but slowly, over time, built friendships and courage and love. Something kids like Mildred could see themselves in...
I got lost in thought as time passed. Then, out of the blue, Logan made a noise of pure disgust.
I looked up from the catalogue. “What?”
He shot me a guilty look. “Sorry. I know I promised to be quiet. It’s just, I need to hammer Mane about his coziness with big corporations. I want to say companies shouldn’t have lobbying access to the governor or legislature, but my team thinks it’s too radical and will piss off everyone. Including the Dems and companies we need to support us.”
From listening to Lee explain the way things worked, it would be a pretty big change if corporations weren’t allowed to hire lobbyists who could march right into politicians’ offices. “So your team wants you to hammer the governor but they don’t want you to hammer too hard?”
He nodded, scooting to the edge of his seat. “They want me to say something tepid like, we should limit corporate influence on state politics. And I want to say we should ban corporate lobbying and hike corporate taxes. Big businesses have dominated politics for so long the idea of a free republic is practically a farce.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I can see how that would be controversial.”
“Yeah, but—” Logan stood up and seized his notebook, walking over to the couch. “Can I?”
My heartbeat skipped as I looked up at him. “Of course.”
He paused. “Did you gather every blanket and pillow in the living room?”
I glanced at the Logan-scented fortress surrounding me. “Uh... I guess I did.”
“You’re like a soft-thing magnet.” He sat down next to me, closer than I’d expected, and leaned in, showing me his notebook. It was covered in his jaunty, spiky handwriting, each letter written like it was bursting with energy. Our bodies brushed at the shoulders, elbows, knees—a sudden sensory overload. How was his skin so warm? How was it possible he could send so much electricity racing through me at the lightest touch? In all the years I’d devoured romance novels, I’d read description after description of the way it could feel when someone touched you:a charge like lightningorthe whole world stilling at the brush of his fingertips. I’d always skimmed those parts, thinking they were an exaggeration, since I’d never felt that way with anyone in real life. But itcouldhappen. It wasn’t fiction. My whole body was rigid, attuned to Logan’s every movement. It was exquisite torture.
“What would you say about corporate influence if you were me?” he asked.
I blinked at him. “You should probably ask someone on your team. I’m no expert.”
“I want to know what I could say to win you.” Logan gripped his notebook. And there it was again, in his furrowed brow, his serious eyes, the earnest expression.Care.
“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath. It was hard to think straight with him so close. “I’d want you to be genuine. Yourself, but the polite version. Thereisthat version,” I insisted, off the look on his face. “Maybe something like, ‘The reason I want to be governor is because I’ve experienced firsthand how choosing corporations over people harms Texans. Like many voters, I’ve been disappointed by how often Grover Mane privileges big business. That’s why life doesn’t feel much different even though he made big promises. We need more substantive change. That’s why I’m proposing we ask corporations to pay at least as much in taxes as the average Texan, and we hold a referendum on their ability to lobby.”
Logan was scribbling furiously. “I knew you would be good at this. Straightforward but nonconfrontational.”
“Well.” I cocked my head. “I guess I am an expert at nonconfrontational.”
“Much better than me.” He grinned and inched closer. Our thighs touched. An almost overwhelming desire to cup his face and kiss him left me clutching my fists to keep them still.
“Would you mind running through a few more questions with me? I can return the favor if there’s anything you need to talk through. And I can make us a snack later if you’re hungry.”
I pictured Logan in an apron and immediately brightened. “This is hard work, isn’t it? Debates aren’t just politicians vamping for the camera.”
“It’s not answering the questions that’s hard. I could talk about this stuff until I was blue in the face. It’s the damn tiptoeing the team wants me to do. I can’t look angry or call Mane out because voters might find it too aggressive. Basically, I can’t be myself.”
I bumped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out a middle ground.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Really.”
“Of course.” I deserved an Oscar for keeping my face this neutral while my nerves exploded like the Fourth of July. “We’re a team. Besides, it’s nice you want my opinion.”
He flipped to a blank page. “It’s pretty much all I ever think about.” He looked over quickly. “I mean, for the debate. You know, because I trust you.” He cleared his throat and tugged on the blanket. “Do you mind if I get some of this?”
