Liz
He could star in the burlesque show.
I giggle.
Frankie
Was that fun?
Liz
So fun. We’re heading to a rooftop bar we heard about now. But it looks like you’ve found fun, too!
Sloane
Happy birthday, Logan! Be nice to our buddy or else!
“My friends say happy birthday,” I tell him.
“I like them already.” He grins, and in that easy, handsome smile, I see way too much potential. And risk.
“Come on,” I mutter. “I know where there’s a bakery.”
He waves goodbye to the bartender as we head out, but then his touch returns to my body pretty quickly, his hand ghosting in the small of my back as he take the escalator down to the level below, then scooping around my waist and holding me close for a second when the elevator is full of people.
His lips brush my temple just before we get off in the basement.
“That’s two,” he whispers.
A jazz quartet is playing at the entrance to the casino. They aren’t like buskers on the street, they don’t have a guitar case open, but Logan slows down and after twirling me around, he slides one of the musicians a folded bill.
After, he notices me looking at him. “My dad taught me to be a good tipper.”
“This way, Good Tipper.” I grab his hand and tug.
We keep our fingers entwined as we wait in the fast moving line for the bakery, Logan’s thumb rubbing back and forth over my knuckles in a way that isverydistracting andverynice.
He’s definitely drunk, he’s got that unmistakable looseness to his body, that glossy look in his eyes. But he’s still well in controlof his magnificent body, and he instinctively puts it between me and anyone who gets close.
I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.
I shouldn’t be doing this at all, I think as the girl behind us in line makes zero attempt to hide the fact she’s checking out Logan’s ass in his midnight blue suit pants.
I can’t blame her, he’s breathtakingly jacked. The irony of me being so attracted to someone so over the top athletic, when I’ve spent my entire life trying to escape the gravitational pull of hockey and everything associated with it, is really funny. This is an objectively hilarious way for my night to end.
But Logan’s also funny, and smart.
Plus I’m never going to see him again after tonight.
So it’s fine that I’ve tumbled into whatever this is that we’re doing. Right? It’sfine.
I tug on his suit jacket and reel him down to press my lips to his cheek.
“That’s three,” I whisper.
He steals four and five by kissing the tip of my nose twice before I let him go.
Then I force him to focus on picking a slice of birthday cake—he goes for a classic vanilla with sprinkles, which endears me for reasons that feel far too vulnerable and real for a drunk New Year’s Eve moment.
