Page 39 of Wedding Wrecker

So yeah, his injury was a terrible accident, but since it’s not that serious and he should be back to running around as usual within a couple of weeks, I can’t help but think of it as a blessing in disguise. I can now make myself useful and show him that I am someone who he can rely on and whose company he might enjoy.

I just need to keep a cool head and let things develop.

Though a part of me dreams of him taking charge, like he had the two previous times.

The remaining vegetables go in the pan, followed by the bacon, and within twenty minutes, dinner’s ready.

I start worrying the food will get cold, but the shower finally turns off, giving me hope we’ll get to eat before that happens. If Logan wasn’t so proud, I would have helped him wash, and then maybe one thing would lead to another, and—

Logan walks into the living room with the help of his crutches. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, but I do notice it’s not some baggy old thing with holes but a white top that is tight enough to accentuate his shape. Maybe I’m shallow, but it’s yet another reminder of why I’m here.

“Smells good,” he says, making his way to the kitchen at a slow pace.

“Where do you want to sit?” I ask, putting the pasta in two bowls. His brown hair is damp, and I’m sure it smells of some fantastic shampoo. I already love his home. It’s light, and modern, and clearly belongs to an adult man, which feels refreshing after spending my whole life in my parent’s farmhouse.

He stalls half-way to the kitchen, staring at the barstool by the kitchen island, but he must know it won’t be comfortable for him in his state. I’m itching to help him out, but he didn’t seem eager to be fussed over, so I bite my tongue.

“I think it’s gonna be the sofa,” he says and changes course. The T-shirt looks as glorious on his muscular back as it does stretching over his pecs.

I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid sighing in admiration, and grab the bowls, hurrying to his side. “Hope you like it. You must give me a list of your favorites, so I don’t accidentally make something you hate,” I say, settling next to him.

Oh, this sofa is comfortable enough to sleep on! The furnishings don’t look particularly expensive, but everything is clean and well-maintained, which must be a reflection of Logan’s personality, because even now, with his leg broken, he’s so put together. I won’t lie, it impresses me. Everything about him does.

“I just hate seafood,” he says and digs in as soon as we’re both seated. “Thanks for this,” he adds as if he’s not the one saving me from another night in my car.

He’s not much older than me, but I can’t help feeling like we’re on different levels. He’s a university graduate, has his own place, a job, and is obviously more versed in the gay world than me. It only makes me want to get my ass in gear more so I can match up to him. Maybe he just thinks I’m some homeless loser and doesn’t want to take a chance on me for that reason?

“Oh, that’s nothing. You just wait until I spread my wings,” I say, chewing the food. He looks up, and I’m ready to take a dip in the steel pools of his eyes. They spear me like twin knives, as if he wants to get to the bottom of my intentions. But he still eats the food I made with so much gusto it makes me giddy.

I want to treat him, and this is the best I have for the moment. Of course I’d love to serve his other needs just as much, but he’s so guarded I don’t know how to offer him that. I know it would help him relax after a hard day if he took the edge off in my mouth.

I’d be lying if I claimed I didn’t spend a large part of the trip here fantasizing about how he’d taste on my tongue. It was something he didn’t get the opportunity to treat me to, and I can’t help but steal a glance at his crotch, but his sweatpants are pretty baggy. Is he wearing underwear, or did he opt to go commando with his foot in the orthopedic boot?

“I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, since I only have some basics in my fridge,” he says and I don’t know if I should remind him that he can’t currently drive.

I nod. “This is such a cool apartment. Really modern. Did you… design this yourself?” I ask, because I want to know everything about him.

He looks around as if it’s the first time he’s seeing his own house, and I’m fighting the urge to wipe a spot of tomato sauce off his chin. “I rent it, so it’s mostly the way it was when I moved in, but I did fill it with my own stuff. It’s more expensive to live on my own, but I had someone break into my room when I was sharing with roommates and decided I was sick of it. Fortunately, I also got a raise at work, so it’s not too bad. You’ll just have to find out how you even like it here as you get back on your feet. It’s a small town.”

We’re not talking about anything special, but I’m soaking it up like a sponge. I don’t know if the sparks are really flying between us or if it’s just my imagination, but now that I’m in his presence again, I’m dying to touch him. Even his shower gel smells good, so fresh and yet somehow spicy. He’s either unaware of my stares or chooses to ignore them. I can live with that for now. He’s been through a lot today.

“Yeah, but I remember you said you’re out. As in, people know you’re bisexual?” I ask, lowering my voice without thinking, as if an acquaintance or family member could somehow overhear us.

But they can’t. This is the house of a grown-ass man who does what he wants with his life.

Logan nods and puts his empty bowl on the coffee table. “I haven’t put up a billboard about it in front of my house, but my friends know, I date guys, and I go to LGBT events when I feel like it. Because of the student population, the town has a young demographic. You feel ready for that?”

My mouth dries, but I finish my food. “I need to be. This is why I’m here. Everything that happened since we met at my family stables has been like a cold shower. After… after that evening, I realized I’m not really attracted to women. I just see that they’re pretty, but it’s not comparable,” I say, catching his gaze to make sure he understands that he’s the one who showed me what I truly need. “I can’t live a lie any longer. It’ll only bring everyone more pain. So I’m here, and I want to be gay here.”

He snorts, and this is the first time I see him smile in a while. I might be losing my mind while he just sits there all casual with his leg in a plastic contraption.

“I like your confidence. It will take you far. So will an ass like yours. I’ll give you a few pointers about the town once I’m not as fucked up as right now.”

I’m burning, because all I can hear is that he complimented my backside. And of course he did, since he so clearly enjoyed it. “Um... yeah. I hope. And how does all of this work for you? Do you date? And in what proportion?” I ask, trying to breathe like a normal person, because I imagine myself getting up and bending over so he can rub and squeeze my buttocks without needing to move.

He looks thoughtful but when he slouches a little it only emphasizes the way his nipples press on the fabric of his T-shirt. Jesus, I’m such a pervert. He’s a nice and normal hot guy, a person, sitting and chatting to me on the sofa, and all I can think of is if he’s got underwear beneath the sweatpants.

“I’d say I like men and women in a similar proportion, but I’ve probably dated more men lately. You know my own wedding was a fuck up years ago, and it’s made dating women a bit weird for me. Also, men are easy.” That cocky smile is back and he winks at me.