Chapter Thirty-Seven
CASSIE
Upstairs, we change in silence, with our backs turned.
Like that somehow makes this less…something. Like we haven’t already seen each other naked.
I slip into a soft nightgown, trying not to think about the fact that Logan is three feet away in his boxers.
When I turn around, he’s already slipping into bed, in gray sweatpants and a casual white T-shirt.
Of course he still looks annoyingly good.
I slide in on the opposite side, pulling the covers up.
A beat passes between us.
“Well,” I say lightly, staring at the ceiling. “Good night then.”
“Night.”
He turns off the one lamp on the floor, and the ocean hums in the distance. Other than that, it’s empty silence.
I close my eyes and try to sleep.
For an hour.
And another hour. Or so. I lose track of time.
Finally, I turn slightly and poke him.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You up?”
He rolls over almost immediately. He’s shirtless now.
“Yeah. You okay?”
I hesitate. “My stomach is literally growling. I didn’t have dinner tonight. And I just checked my phone, and there’s not a lot open around here at this hour. I’m hungry.”
He exhales. “Honestly? Me too.”
“Do you have anything?”
“No.”
“Literally nothing?”
“Actually,” he adds, “I’ve got potato chips. And…one bottle of wine.”
I laugh softly. “The two most important groups on the food pyramid.”
“I aim to impress.”
“I’ll grab it,” I say, starting to move. “You can go back to sleep.”
“Nah,” he says, sitting up. “I’m awake. I’ll show you where it is.”
“You said you were tired.”
