His breath is heavy. “I’m the guy in the story, for Christ’s sake. How can you be embarrassed to read something about us in front of us?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. I just am. I’m shy.”
Logan’s mouth is laughing along with his eyes. I haven’t seen him this himself since Gigi came along, and I want to keep seeing that.
“Look,” he says. “When you become a novelist, you’re going to have to do public readings. And you told me you’re planning to have romance in your books. So think of this as good practice.”
“Like we’re characters in a novel,” I say.
“Exactly. Just two people you wrote about.”
I return to the diary.
When Logan took off my halter top and kissed my breasts, I nearly came apart inside. I thought my heart would burst. And when he unzipped my shorts and slipped his hand inside—oh God, I could hardly stop from screaming.
“Tell me what you like, Macey,” he whispered as he looked into my eyes. “Move my hand where you want it.”
I closed my eyes. “I like what you’re doing right now.”
Logan’s breath is ragged now, and I’m exhaling so heavily I have to fight to control the volume as I curl my toes inside my boots and try to keep reading in a level tone of voice.
And as he moved his fingers until they reached a place no boy had ever been, I exploded from the inside out. My legs shook, and I clung to Logan’s neck with my arms.
“Was that okay?” he asked me, his eyes focused on mine. “Your little sighs were so amazing.”
“It was perfect.”
I reached over and pulled off his shirt so I could run my hands down his bare chest. And when I reached the buttons on his jeans, I didn’t stop.
“I don’t know how to touch you,” I said softly into his mouth. “I just love the way you feel.”
Logan’s hips bucked off the blanket as my fingers found their way below the elastic of his boxers.
“Oh, God, Macey, do that again.”
And I did until he cried out like I had a few minutes before. He buried his face in my neck and put his hand on my back as he whispered, “I’ll never have another first time. I want to lie like this as long as we can.”
I wanted to lie with him forever. I wanted him to touch me again and again. But I knew I couldn’t ask for more. Logan Wild could become an addiction, and addictions are dangerous.
When we finally stood up, I felt a little wobbly in the knees, and Logan held my elbow while I steadied myself. I laughed, and he did, too. We walked back to his house and said good-bye at the end of his driveway. He kissed me on the lips and asked me to fish with him and Blake tomorrow. And I kissed him one last time before I jumped into my car and drove off.
I cried all night. I sobbed, if I’m being honest. Because I missed him already. And I know I can’t—pursue anything.
We’re friends—best friends—who trust each other. Anything else could get awfully complicated, and I’ve watched my parents far too closely to ever want complicated in my own love life. “Keep it simple.” That’s what Mama told me. And even though she didn’t, I agree with her on this one. Simple is best.
I can’t look up when I finish.
But Logan takes my chin in his hand and raises my head gently. His eyes are troubled, as much as he’s trying not to show it.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he says. “So sad afterward. You never said anything.”
“I know. I just—you know, I’m not great at the sharing part. I like to keep the bars on my heart.”
His breath catches in his throat, and he moves his hand to my cheek.
When his phone goes off in his pocket like a fire alarm, we both jump back.
He pulls out his phone and looks at the screen. “Hi, Gigi.”
