Savannah
“Nothere.”Logangrowlsthose words, throwing a glance at Kacen before he turns and stalks toward the parking lot.
He must think I’m going to follow. Though incredibly tempted to let him walk off on his own and be disappointed, I already know I’m going to go after him, if only to satisfy my burning curiosity. And to scratch an itch that has been low-key driving me insane since the moment he left my apartment last week.
“I should head out,” I tell Kacen, who looks oddly bothered by Logan’s gruff manner. I don’t think he knows that Logan is his half-brother, but the usually stoic kid is frowning at the retreating rugby player. “You okay?” I ask.
Kacen nods. “Yeah. Thanks again for the burritos, Sav.” He turns and heads for the locker room without looking at me.
Okay then.
By the time I thank the coaches for trusting me with their team’s appetites and make my way to the parking lot, Logan is leaning against a shiny black car, his hood over his head and hisarms folded. He does not look happy. Which shouldn’t surprise me, given the rarity of his smiles, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing his tight-jawed scowl.
I figure it can’t make things worse to crack a joke and try to ease the tension hanging thick between us. “Are you cold, Big Beef?”
He rolls his stormy eyes, exhaling through his nose. “No.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I raise an eyebrow at him. “So what’s with the sweatshirt?”
He looks down at what he’s wearing. “It’s lightweight.”
“It’s almost April.”
“It’s only eighteen degrees here.”
“Did you forget we use Fahrenheit in the US?”
“Nah, I just choose to ignore that idiocy.”
Snickering, I lean against the car next to him, leaving a few inches of space between us before I try to recreate last week’s closeness. I need to say something, but I have no idea where to start. “My cat misses you,” I blurt out despite the million other things I’d rather address.
Logan looks down at me. “Does he?”
That’s it? That’s all he’s giving me afterhewas the one who made things weird? Guess I’ll try a different topic. “Why’d you lie to me this morning?”
“I didn’t—”
“Were you busy?”
He clenches his jaw, which is answer enough.
“Why the lie? Is it because you’re embarrassed?”
Scoffing, he shakes his head. “About what?”
“You tell me. I’m not the one being a lying donkey.”
“Donkey?” That actually gets a chuckle out of him. “You can call me what you want, love. No need to pull your punches.”
“We’re standing in a high school parking lot,” I argue.
“And you think the lads don’t use words far worse than the one you were thinking?”
“You’re one to talk, Mr. ‘Half my words on the field are swears’.”
He moves so quickly that before I can even flinch, he boxes me in, his hands pressed to the roof of the car on either side of my shoulders. He winces from the movement in his arm but doesn’t seem to care about the pain. “Youwereat the match,” he says. Not a question this time, and his eyes are fixed on mine, his eyebrows low. It’s not frustration in his expression but something lighter. Almost like…hope?
Holy intensity.If I thought I was warm the last time he was at my house, it’s nothing compared to the heat burning through me now.
