He laughed softly.
I shifted closer without thinking, my shoulder brushing his arm. This time, he didn’t pull away right away. His hand rested on the couch cushion between us, fingers close enough that I could have touched them if I moved an inch.
And we just sat there like that, breathing the same air, the tension thick enough to taste. I could feel it, the pull. The way his body angled toward me even as his mind fought it.
When I laughed at something on screen, he turned to look at me. And for a heartbeat, I thought he might lean in.
For another, I hoped he would.
Instead, he stood abruptly.
It happened so subtly I almost missed the moment it turned. We found ourselves standing, not all at once or with any drama. Just our bodies responding before the mind caught up. The credits murmured forgotten in the background.
Logan was close. Closer than he had been all night.
I tilted my head up without thinking. He was tall enough that I always had to. And tonight, that small movement felt loaded. His hooded green eyes dropped immediately to my lips.
I could see it in him then, the conflict, the want. The restraint that was pulling tight across his shoulders like a wire about to snap. His jaw flexed once, and for a second I thought he might step back.
Instead, my legs pulled me closer.
The space between us disappearing until I could feel the pressure of his hands at my waist. Not gripping, just anchoring me there, thumbs pressing lightly into my shirt.
My pulse roared in my ears.
His breath brushed my cheek as he leaned down, slow enough that I could have stopped it, but didn’t. I tilted my face up, my fingers finding the front of his shirt, feeling his solid chest beneath my hands.
For a while, we hovered there with our noses almost touching, airy breaths mingling.
My eyes fluttered closed on instinct just as lips brushed mine, so lightly I barely noticed. I leaned in, chasing it just a fraction more, wanting to feel him fully, wanting to know if this pull was as real as it felt.
But he was already pulling away.
His hands dropped from my waist as if he’d burned himself. He stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling faster than before.
“I’m—” He stopped, struggling for the words before swallowing hard. “I’m sorry.”
The word landed heavier than the kiss.
My heart was still racing, my lips tingling where his had been, my body slow to understand that the moment was already gone. “Logan. Please stop apologizing for touching me…”
Instead of a response, or the return of his lips on mine, silence rushed in to fill the space he’d left behind.
“I need to go to bed,” he added after a beat, voice rough. “Early flight.”
“Right,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
He hesitated, standing there like he wanted to say something else, like he was wrestling with it. His jaw tightened, eyes flicking back to me.
“Dani?”
“Yes?”
He exhaled slowly, controlled. “Goodnight.”
Then he walked down the hall and disappeared into his room, leaving the scent of him behind like a ghost.
I stood there long after, my body still humming, my heart doing everything it could to catch up.
