His mouth curves. “You’re allowed to be human in senior year.”
“Since when?”
“Since I said so.” He leans in, kissing the side of my head—soft, quick, like it’s a habit now. Like he’s done it a thousand times and plans to do it a thousand more.
My chest loosens a fraction.
He steps back, grabs his keys off my dresser like he belongs here—which he does, even if my heart still trips over it sometimes.
“I’ve got to head out,” he says. “Sports med wants me in early.”
“Of course they do,” I mutter.
Logan smirks. “They miss me.”
“They miss torturing you.”
“Same thing.”
I grab my gym bag and sling it over my shoulder. “Drive safe.”
He pauses, eyes flicking over my face like he’s checking the stability of the ground beneath me.
“You sure you’re good?” he asks again, quieter.
I swallow. Then I nod, because I am—maybe not fully, maybe not forever, but for this moment, for this morning, for the fact that I’m trying.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m good.”
Logan’s expression softens in a way that makes my throat tighten.
“Okay,” he says, and then he leans in and kisses my forehead. “Love you. See you later, senior.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t call me that.”
He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
I shove him lightly. He catches my wrist without thinking, thumb brushing the inside of it, and for a second, he just holds on, like he doesn’t quite want to let go.
Then he lets go.
And we both leave, heading in different directions, the house quiet behind us.
In the car, the short drive to campus feels familiar—sunlight through the windshield, music low, my hands on the wheel.
But when I pull into the athletic center parking lot, my stomach flips anyway.
I park, taking a few calming breaths before getting out.
I sling my bag higher on my shoulder and head toward the entrance.
I’m almost there when someone whistles.
“AYO!”
I turn just in time to see Jade and Blakely barreling toward me like a coordinated attack.
Jade throws her arms wide. “Senior year, baby!”
