I knew it was just a matter of time before he did something stupid like this. He’s a professional boundary-crosser, apparently.
“I wanna try some of your spaghetti.” The dimples on his cheeks make an appearance, as if his charm will somehow mitigate this catastrophic breach of our agreement.
“What happened to rule number two? You can’t just rewrite it without consulting me first.”
“I’m consulting you now.”
I throw my head back with a sigh, ready to strangle him. “That’s not the point. Everybody’s home.”
“Yeah, I thought about it some more,” Logan says, hands in pockets, rocking back on his heels. “I think at least your family should know that I’m here.”
“And how did you arrive at that brilliant conclusion?” I cross my arms over my chest and fix him with my best teacher glare—the one that makes six-year-olds instantly confess any wrongdoings.
“Well, the past few days I’ve heard sounds coming from your house. It’s boring there,” he says, pointing to his house. “It’s much livelier here.” He eyes the door like he’s about to go through it.
I shift to block his path. The last thing I need is for him to saunter into our house like he’s just a regular Joe. “Have you lost your mind? My mom is a gossip queen. If she knows you’re here, the entire town will know by day’s end.”
“If memory serves me right, your mom was always nice. I can just ask her to keep it secret.”
Feeling my headache expand, I put a hand to my forehead. “This is not a good idea at all.”
The door behind me swings open. “The library should have a copy of—“ I hear Chrissy say before she gasps.
Oh no.
I turn to see my sister standing frozen in the doorway, mesmerized. Behind her, Stephanie screams so loud I’m afraid she could alert the entire block.
It takes two seconds for me to lunge inside and clamp my hand over her mouth, giving her a stern look to keep it down. Then I grab Logan, who’s smiling like he’s enjoying himself way too much, and yank him inside before any of our neighbors spot us.
Forget panic. I’m in a full fight or flight mode as I close the front door.
“Umm . . .” Chrissy backs away from us, open-mouthed, her eyes the size of golf balls. “Maisie, care to explain why Logan Humphries is standing in our foyer?”
Stephanie looks like she’s struggling to contain an explosion of colorful fireworks that went off in her body. She tries to form words, with no success.
“What’s going on?” Mom steps into view from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Who’s at the d—“
She doesn’t finish the sentence because her hand flies to her mouth at the speed of someone who has touched a hot stove.
I turn to Logan, furious. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. The jittery anxiety that’s been brewing all week crystallizes into pure, molten rage.
“Oops” is all he manages to say.
This whole situation is a nightmare. Chrissy demands answers with wide, frantic eyes, while Stephanie vibrates with such unconstrained excitement she might actually achieve liftoff from our dining room floor. Mom, meanwhile, gazes at Logan like he’s a long-lost Hemsworth brother who’s wandered into her kitchen by divine intervention. The only one maintaining any semblance of composure is Theo, who stands against the wall witharms crossed tightly over his chest, examining Logan with the narrowed eyes of someone who clearly finds him unwelcome.
I shoot Logan my best death glare—but he just smiles that boyish, lopsided grin, his eyebrows twitching once in amusement.
“Can I take a selfie with you?” Stephanie blurts, practically jumping in one spot, her phone already materialized in her hand.
Chrissy’s fingers wrap around my wrist with surprising strength. “Maisie, what is going on?” The confusion in her voice mixes with a dash of accusation, as if I’ve been keeping a great secret from her. Which I have and which makes this commotion all the worse.
A sigh escapes my parted lips. Might as well tell them the truth. At least part of it, anyway.
“Logan here, childhood menace turned pop star sensation”—I emphasize the last word in a tone of displeasure as I continually glare at him—“moved into the Parker house.”
Stephanie instantly latches onto Chrissy’s arm. “You’re neighbors! I’m sleeping over.”
“No one is sleeping over,” I say firmly, “and Logan is leaving.” My pointed look should send him scurrying back to his lair, but he seems immune to social cues.
