Because that’s what he’d said that night in LA, wasn’t it? That he doesn’t do sleepovers. He doesn’t do morning afters or breakfast.
But here he is, in my apartment, doing all those things. He’s making breakfast with my little brother, for fuck’s sake.
What does that mean?
I know what itfeelslike. It feels like we’re heading into relationship territory. This feels like boyfriend and girlfriend stuff. But Logan doesn’t do relationships.
“Don’t overthink it,” I tell myself. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
Once I’ve taken care of my business, I hurry into my room and change into clean clothes. When I head back into the kitchen, Reed and Logan are laughing about something as they maneuver around each other. Logan is manning the bacon while Reed spoons pancake batter onto the griddle. The sight makes my heart swell.
Reed looks so happy.
“How can I help?”
Logan looks over at me with a smile. His eyes survey me from head to toe, and I shiver. It just makes his smile widen.
“I think we’ve got it all covered, angel. You can set the table.”
“Angel?” my brother asks, his eyebrows rising. “Gross.”
“Oh, shut it,” Logan says, laughing. He elbows Reed playfully before oiling a pan and cracking an egg.
“So are you two like, dating, now?”
I hold my breath, and I know I must look like a deer caught in overly blinding LED headlights.
Logan chuckles. “We haven’t really talked about it yet, but I’d like us to be.”
Holy shit.
“For real?” Reed turns to gape at Logan.
“For real.” Logan isn’t looking at my brother. He doesn’t see that Reed’s mouth is hanging open. He doesn’t see Reed turn to me with wide eyes. “If she’ll give me a chance.”
“I…” I try to form words, I really do. They just don’t seem to come.
“But why don’t we talk about that later? We don’t want to have a serious conversation on empty stomachs.”
“Don’t worry,” Reed says. “She likes you. If she tells you she doesn’t, she’s lying.”
“Reed!”
My brother smirks at me. “And I give you both my blessing.”
“Thanks, bro,” Logan says, suppressing laughter. “That means a lot to me.”
“It should. Just know that if you ask her to marry you someday, I expect you to ask my permission first.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I grind out.
Logan, to his credit, doesn’t appear terrified at that pronouncement. He just looks amused. I probably look ready to crawl into a hole and die. Because that’s exactly what I want to do.
“How do you like your eggs, angel?”
“Over easy,” I murmur, turning away from them both to focus on setting the table.
“Me too,” Logan says, pleased.
