Ethan shifts, angling slightly closer to me like he’s reading the tension and deciding—without asking—that he should be in front of it.
Logan clocks that too.
His hand tightens around the crutch.
His shoulders square, like he’s about to do something stupid.
My chest tightens with a familiar, ugly mix of irritation and something worse.
Because I’ve been here.
This scene. This feeling.
A party. A guy. Logan walking in like he owns the air between me and whoever I’m talking to.
Freshman year flashes—the dare, the kiss, the way Logan’s eyes went cold, the way the words he threw at me afterward sank into my ribs and stayed there.
I don’t move. I don’t wave. I don’t give him anything.
Logan stops a few feet away from the patio, halfway between the door and the firepit, like there’s an invisible line he’s not sure he’s allowed to cross.
His gaze stays on me.
Not Ethan.
Me.
My throat tightens.
Ethan leans in, voice low. “Is that…a thing?”
“No,” I say too fast.
Logan’s eyes narrow slightly, like he heard the tone even if he couldn’t hear the word.
I lift my chin, holding his gaze across the space. The fire throws light across his face, sharp angles, stubble, eyes too intense for a stupid party.
For a second, it feels like the whole yard goes quiet, reminding me of moments where I’d be the one staring at him at a party while he was talking to other girls, even though he caught me every time. As if it made him happy that my attention was always on him.
Then Ethan’s hand lightly touches my elbow. “Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s go inside. It’s colder out here than I thought.”
My body tenses.
Logan’s expression shifts, like he’s about to move. Like he’s about to walk over and say something, do something, make this a confrontation, just like he did two years ago.
My pulse jumps.
Ethan starts guiding me toward the side of the yard, away from the door, away from the firepit, toward a cluster of people under string lights.
I don’t stop him. I don’t let him see my hesitation.
I keep my eyes on Logan as I move.
Logan looks like he’s going to follow.
His weight shifts forward.
His grip tightens, his gaze burning me from the inside out.
