Logan looks closer at me, like he’s really examining me.
The teasing drops—just for a second.
“Yeah?” he says.
“Yeah.”
A beat. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”
My chest tightens.
“So Logan…I feel like I still don’t know some things about you,” I say, sitting back down, and patting the blanket. “You’re still kind of this mystery to me.”
He plops down next to me. “Well, we’ve got time. And wine. And fresh summer night air. So ask away. I’m an open book.”
“Like where are you from?”
“Everywhere and nowhere,” he says.
“How so?”
“I grew up in Wisconsin. Till I was about seven. I showed some promise in baseball, so my parents moved me south where I could play year-round—to Texas. Grew up there. I never really felt right though.” He laughs. “The kids actually made fun of my ‘Wisconsin accent’ in Texas. That’s probably why I talk funny.”
“You don’t talk funny.”
“I’m glad you think so. But Texans say I talk like I’m from Wisconsin, and Wisconsinites say I talk like I’m from Texas.”
“Well, you can pull off a cowboy hat, at least. Maybe that’s the Texas in you.”
“What about you? What’s it like growing up with…how many brothers?”
“Three,” I say. “And they’re all way too intense. I guess I kinda learned to be the one who balances things out.”
He nods and sips his wine. “It’s really cute that you and Jackson are close. I like that about your family.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, not ‘I guess.’ Cass, you realize you’re a glue person, right?”
“What’s a ‘glue person?’” I ask, curious.
“That’s like someone who brings people together. Like how you’re friends with Ivy? Man. There’s something about that. I don’t think you realize how important you are.”
“Oh,” I swallow. “I guess so.”
“I always wanted siblings. Didn’t have any though.”
There’s a pause between us. Not awkward, but something shifts in the air.
I don’t think, I just lean in.
And give him a big, huge kiss.
He stills for half a second—just enough to feel it—before his hand tightens at my waist and he kisses me back.
