Chapter 29 #2
“Okay.” Zoe’s already decided before anyone else can weigh in. She smirks, eyes glittering. “You have to… go tell the server he’s got the best ass in Denver.”
We howl while Tamara groans, but she gets up anyway, struts to the bar, and actually does it—returning with another round of cocktails on the house.
We all cheer, and Zoe is already crowning herself queen of dares.
“Lulu,” she purrs, turning that wicked grin on me. “Truth or Dare?”
I sway to the music and adrenaline in my veins, considering. “Dare,” I blurt.
Zoe leans back, smug as sin. “Fine. You have to kiss the next person who walks through the door.”
My jaw drops. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes,” she fires back.
The others start chanting—“Do it! Do it!”—when the doors swing open.
And in walks Logan.
He’s not sober but not drunk either. Sturdy, broad-shouldered, neon painting him unfairly gorgeous. My stomach plummets.
“Oh, fuck me,” I whisper, already half out of my seat.
The booth goes feral. Zoe’s screaming, “GO, GO, GO!” while Charlie gasps, clutching her tiara, and Claire’s got her phone up like she’s livestreaming the apocalypse.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m stumbling across the club toward him, sequins catching every light. Logan spots me, brows lowering in that way that always makes my knees weak.
“You have to kiss me,” I blurt as I reach him, grabbing his wrist before he can even speak. “For a dare. You were first through the door. No backsies.”
His eyes move past me—clocking the booth full of women shrieking and waving—then back as his mouth slowly curves.
“A dare, huh?” His voice is low, almost drowned out by the music, but I feel it shiver down my spine.
I nod too fast, babbling, “Just a quick one, cheek, that’s all, it’s not—”
Logan cups my chin, anchoring me. “Yeah, no, Lulu. That’s not how this works.”
And then the rest of the guys barrel in behind him—Chase already shouting for drinks, Jake scanning for Charlie, Reid stone-faced, and Eli… so drunk he nearly takes out a cocktail server on his way in.
Tamara sees him and mutters, “Oh, shit,” as she bolts up from the booth. She cuts across the dance floor, heels clacking, eyes wide in full wife-mode as she helps stabilize him along with Hutch.
But then Eli’s gaze finally latches onto me. Or rather, Logan and I, standing far too close, my hand still gripping his wrist, begging him to kiss me.
Eli stops dead. Blinks. Points a wobbly finger. “What the—”
“It’s a dare!” I blurt, voice way too loud. “Truth or Dare, Eli! He was first through the door. I have to!”
For a heartbeat, Eli blinks, sways dangerously, then lets out a booming laugh.
“Ohhh a DARE!” He stumbles forward, slinging an arm around Tamara’s shoulders for balance while Reid catches the other.
“That’s fine! Hahahaha, that’s totally fine!
You have to do a dare, Tallooooolah. You will bring shame on the family if you don’t. Rules are rules!”
He claps Logan on the shoulder so hard, Hutch has to steady them both. “It’s not for real!” he announces loudly into Logan’s face before turning to the entire club, like a PSA. “Not for real, everybody! Just pretend!”
Logan nods and looks back down at me, eyes scanning my face, and for a split second, time stalls. My heart drops clean through the sticky floor.
“Ohhh my god,” Zoe shrieks, slapping the table. “It’s fate.”
Reid tugs at Eli, steering him toward the bar; Tamara groans into her hands. Zoe climbs onto the booth seat, chanting, “KISS! KISS! KISS!” while Charlie and Claire fall over laughing.
Logan keeps his eyes on me, grip tightening on my jaw, voice low enough only I can hear. “You gonna kiss me, baby?”
My pulse is louder than the bass, and before I can stop myself, I’m tugging Logan’s wrist down behind my back, dragging him closer. “Fine,” I hiss, breathless, “but just a little peck, okay? Nothing crazy.”
I surge up onto my toes and press my mouth to his. It’s quick. Simple. A get-it-over-with peck, because I reason that I can give him a proper kiss later when we’re alone.
Except Logan Miller apparently doesn’t do simple.
His arm bands tight around my waist, and suddenly, I’m tipped backward, squeaking into the kiss as he dips me like we’re in the final scene of some ridiculous romcom. Gasps ripple through the crowd, followed by wild applause.
Logan takes full advantage, mouth slanting over mine with a hungry certainty that leaves me dizzy.
His kiss is fire and inevitability, tongue sliding against mine as if the dare never mattered at all.
His hand cups the back of my neck, keeping me exactly where he wants me, while the other braces behind my thigh to secure me in the dip.
The girls in the booth explode.
“Oh my actual GOD,” Zoe screams, nearly launching herself over the table. “LULU, ARE YOU SEEING YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW?”
Claire’s yelling, “I’M GETTING IT ALL, DON’T WORRY!” into her phone.
Charlie would be shrieking too, but Jake’s already slid in beside her, one arm hooked around her waist, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle. He’s pressing kisses to her bare shoulder when Zoe clocks it, mid-feral scream, and throws up her hands.
“Oh my god, get off her Brooks! Your fiancée is literally missing the start of Lulu’s real-life romcom because you can’t keep your hands to yourself!”
Charlie just giggles harder as Jake smirks smugly against her shoulder.
Tamara groans as if she’s aged ten years on the spot as she watches us. “Jesus Christ,” she mutters into her palms, “you two are gonna kill me.”
And then there’s Eli.
Clamped between Chase and Hutch at the bar, staring slack-jawed for a long, terrible moment before his face relaxes and bellows, “That’s not real!
Don’t panic, everybody! THIS IS FAKE NEWS!
” He stumbles sideways, sloshing his beer as he squints over at us.
“Oh my god, Lulu, he’s dipping you, that’s not—” He breaks off into manic laughter.
“It’s just pretend, right guys? IT’S TOTALLY FINE. ”
Logan ignores all of it. Ignores the howls, the phones, the feral chaos. His mouth drags from mine only when I’m breathless, pulling me upright but keeping me against his chest, not ready to let go.
His mouth brushes my ear before he takes a step back. “Lesson Eleven, I don’t do just a little peck when it comes to you, Lu.”
My sequins are crushed, my pulse is a runaway train, and for one dizzy, terrifying second, I can’t remember why we ever thought we should keep this secret.
We finally make it back to the booth in one noisy, glitter-streaked migration, with Logan fixed at my side, his hand brushing against mine. Tamara and Hutch half-prop Eli between them, steering him like a malfunctioning shopping cart until he flops down into the cushions.
Chase piles in last, dumping an armful of arcade junk onto the table with the same pride as if he’s won Olympic gold. Zoe rummages through the prizes, grinning.
“Baby, you shouldn’t have,” she purrs, already trying on a pair of plastic yellow daisy sunglasses.
Chase smirks, leaning close. “You can thank me later. Preferably with less clothing.”
She shoves him in the chest, but doesn’t take the grin or sunglasses off.
Drinks are redistributed, hair is smoothed out, sequins adjusted. My mouth is still tingling, and no amount of champagne will drown it out.
“Alright,” Zoe declares, settling back into her seat. “Back to Truth or Dare. Lulu just completed hers, which means she gets to ask the next victim.”
All eyes swing to me. I’m still breathless, still dizzy, still very much wishing the floor would swallow me whole. My gaze snags on Logan across the booth—broad shoulders, maddening smirk, like he hasn’t just detonated my entire life in front of the club.
“You,” I say, pointing before I can think better.
His brows tick up, slow and cocky. “Me?”
“Yes,” I snap, reckless. “Truth or Dare?”
His smirk sharpens on the spot. “Dare.”
Zoe slams her hand on the table like she’s been given the greatest gift of her life. “Oh my god, the man has a death wish.”
Charlie’s eyes are wide, Claire’s already filming, and Tamara is watching me too closely, lips pursed around her straw, sharp as a hawk.
Eli chooses this exact moment to lurch upright, nearly taking Reid down with him. “DARE!” he booms, sloshing his beer. “Gotta do it, rules are rules! No backing out, Tallooooolah!”
Tamara drags a hand down her face. “Eli, sit down.”
“Okay,” I start, fumbling for something relatively safe. “Um… I dare you to… finish your drink in one go.”
The reaction is immediate. A chorus of groans, boos, and dramatic head-thunks against the table.
“Lulu!” Zoe looks personally offended. “That’s your dare?”
Claire shakes her head, sipping her cocktail like a disappointed aunt. “Weak. So weak.”
Charlie nods. “Beyond weak.”
Tamara lifts a brow at me, unimpressed.
“I panicked!” I squeak, glaring at them all.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Zoe says, her grin going feral as she digs through the pile of arcade loot Chase dumped onto the table. “I’ve got this.”
She comes up with a garish plastic diamond ring, the fake pink stone so huge it could signal planes. She holds it aloft like she’s unearthed treasure.
“New dare.” She points the ring at Logan. “I dare you to propose to someone. Right here, right now.”
Eli pounds the table so hard, the drinks jump. “ICONIC! YES! He has to do it!”
Logan doesn’t even flinch, just shakes his head once. “Not happening.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Zoe whines. “It’s not a real proposal, just karaoke-club theatrics. Choose anyone you want!”
“Come on, Poooookie!” Eli shouts, slurring. “It’s just a joke, live a little!” Which is hilarious, because if he knew the truth, living is not the word he’d be choosing for Logan.
Hutch’s grin is pure devilry because he knows. His gaze jumps from me to Logan and back, like he’s watching the greatest comedy of his life. “Come on, Miller,” he goads. “You scared or what?”
Logan’s jaw works, teeth catching on the inside of his cheek. For a moment, I think he’s going to shut it down completely, but then Zoe starts chanting, and Chase joins in, and soon, the whole booth is yelling his name.
He should get up and walk away. He should shut it down and head to the bar. But instead, his jaw ticks, and he thrusts his open palm out to Zoe. “Gimme the damn ring.”
His eyes flick to me once, and then he sets his beer down and stands. The ring gleams, ridiculous and pink in his hand as he comes to the other side of the booth and stands in front of me.
“Wife me up, Lu.”
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper, though my pulse is already sprinting.
“Oh, he’s daring,” Zoe cackles, bouncing in her seat. “He picked dare, remember?”
Eli waves his hand grandly, nearly knocking over Tamara’s drink. “It’s okay, Lulu, it’s not for real. Right, Miller? Not for real! SAY IT, MILLER. NOT. FOR. REAL.”
Logan doesn’t say a word, just keeps his eyes locked on mine and drops to one knee, while the whole booth erupts.
He holds the monstrosity of a ring up between us, his mouth tipping wryly. “Tallulah Parnell,” Logan says, voice carrying over the roar. “From the day you walked into my life, you’ve been… sunshine. And I’d be a goddamn idiot not to lock that down.”
I nearly choke. “LOGAN!”
“Will you make me the happiest idiot alive and accept this fine piece of plastic craftsmanship?”
I gasp, hand over my chest, throwing myself into it because what else do you do when the man you’re secretly sleeping with proposes in front of your entire found family?
“Oh, Logan,” I sigh, loud and dramatic, “I thought you’d never ask!”
“Put it on her!” Chase’s cackle cuts through the roar. Zoe’s practically climbing onto the table. “Matrimonial kiss incoming!”
Logan’s mouth quirks, not a smile exactly, but something wavering and unguarded.
He catches my left hand, slides the pink monstrosity onto my finger with mock precision, binding me for life in pink plastic.
It’s too big, slipping sideways, but it sparkles under the neon like it means something anyway.
I barely register our friends are losing their ever-loving shit—Claire’s screaming, Zoe’s chanting for us to kiss, Charlie’s half-hiding in Jake’s chest, and Tamara covers her face, like if she can’t see it, it’s not happening.
Eli is pounding his chest, shouting, “HAHA, IT’S FIIIIINE.
Right, Tamara? TAMA-RAAA, tell them it’s fine! ” while Hutch calmly holds him upright.
Logan doesn’t look at them, doesn’t look at anyone but me. The lights buzz, sequins bite into my ribs, but all I feel is his hand swallowing mine, thumb brushing my knuckles while his gaze pins me in place—constant, unreadable, terrifyingly sure.