By the time the lodge appears in front of me, Logan is already standing on the patio with a drink in his hand, and my stomach does a somersault.
He waves at me, smiling from ear to ear. I smile and wave back, feeling a bit more confident than before. Unless he’s faking his enthusiasm, he does seem really happy to see me despite everything. Perhaps he’s not holding a grudge. Or, if he is, he’s not letting it surface at the moment.
If that’s the case, that’ll be somethingfuture mecan deal with.
“Hope you’re feeling better,” he says as I join him at the round table he’s at. Currently, we’re not alone at this patio; we’re surrounded by three other tables of people, to whom I don’t really pay much attention. Because all I can focus on is Logan.
Sophie was right. I can’t help but notice how handsome he’s become. Unlike the last time I saw him in the flesh, he’s now taller than me. Of course, that’s no big feat. Although I’m close to hitting five feet, I don’t quite hit the mark—something my dad always good-naturedly teased me about.
Logan himself doesn’t seem super tall. It’s difficult to tell since he’s sitting down. But I’m guessing he must be five or six inches taller than me. He’s still narrow-framed and lean, but I can see his muscles have filled out considerably. Even though he’s always been an indoor person, it’s obvious he’s been doing at least some physical activity. Unless the muscles in his forearms just naturally pop out like that?
Warmth pools in my belly at this observation.Geez, Avery, calm down.But a magnetic pull, undeniable and strong, captures my attention the moment my eyes meet his. Even though his face is so similar, the new angles and his short beard are doing things to me that I can’t explain.
I realize I’ve been staring for way too long without answering. He’s giving me a quizzical look. “Oh yeah, sorry,” I stammer, fidgeting in the cheap plastic seat. It’s a bit too small for my liking—I’m not lacking in curves. “I’m still a bit out of it. But I’m calm.” I gaze away from him and fiddle with my hands.
“Do you drink?” he asks as he stands. “I’ll go get us something, but I don’t know what I should get you.”
“Hell, yeah, I drink,” I respond with enthusiasm. But then I remember I just had a panic attack. I need to take it easy. “Got something fruity and not too strong?”
He raises one eyebrow. “Why does that not surprise me?” Since we were so young when I moved away, we never drank together. All we got when we were thirteen was a single, tiny cup of wine here and there at family dinners. And that one rum and coke at our graduation party—but I don’t want to think about that right now.
That being said, my tastes in alcohol are similar to my tastes in other things, and sweet, fruity things have always been a weakness of mine.
I’m surprised he still remembers.
“I know just what to get you then,” he says as he turns around. Before I know it, he’s gone back inside, presumably to the bar and kitchen.
I take the moment he’s gone as an opportunity to check in with myself. The last thing I want is to start panicking again just as we’re catching up. But a quick scan of my body reassures me. Although I’m feeling tense from this social encounter, I don’t detect any rising peaks in my emotional state.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
I tell myself to just focus on the moment and have fun. Even though there’s a chance things could be awkward, I try to detach myself from the outcome.
Easier said than done.
Logan comes back with two drinks in hand: one that looks like a hazy beer, and the other like the summery drink of my dreams. It’s got shades of orange and red and what looks like ice blended through it. The glass is reminiscent of tropical drinks. He even took the extra effort to add a little paper umbrella to it.
The glee must show on my face because Logan starts laughing right as he sets the drink in front of me. “I’ll assume I chose wisely, then?”
“You read my mind.” I’m about to take a sip from the bright yellow straw when I stop in my tracks. “Wait, how much alcohol is in this thing?”
Logan sits and puts his own beer down on the table. “Usually the answer would be a lot. But I toned it down for you. There’s just an ounce in there now.”
Feeling pleased with that answer, I take a sip and perk up. It hits every note I look for in a summer drink—sweet, juicy, sour, bubbly, cold … and I even detect a hint of salty?
It’s perfect.
I moan in satisfaction. “What even is this?”
Logan chuckles, obviously satisfied with my reaction. “It’s the resort’s specialty drink. The Cape Dream.”
“What’s in here? You’ve gotta teach me the recipe.”
He smirks at me. “Um, absolutely not. It’s a trade secret.” He grabs his pint of beer and looks straight into my eyes. “We’ll see how I feel at the end of your stay.”
The end of my stay … I don’t even want to think about that right now. Somehow, for an instant, I forgot this wasn’t permanent. I don’t live here. This is only a façade. A distraction from my mess of a life to allow me to get inspired to do my work again.
I’m not sure I like how this makes me feel. But I play along and smile, returning his gaze. “Oh, yeah? What am I gonna have to do to pull it out of you?”
