23. Espresso
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
espresso
ABI
SASKATOON, SASKATCHEWAN
PRESENT DAY
I wake up to sunlight cutting through a small break in the curtains, illuminating the last sliver of the cosmo I never managed to finish, and I reach past it, over to my phone in the hopes that I can shut off before any ill-conceived alarm I may have set ruins the morning.
It’s resting right next to my ring pop necklace.
I smile and reach for the ‘jewelry,’ dropping it into my palm and playing with it for a little while. I can feel that same rush of adrenaline I felt back at the start of our trip, when Logan dropped to one knee in that gas station. I knew it was a gag, there was no chance it was anything but, and yet just for that tiny little moment it felt so fucking real.
It might be the first time I’ve been able to fully admit what I’ve known deep down for a while: It wasn’t just a fluke, we’d be good together.
We are good together.
Sure, it’s stupid when you think about our jobs, our lives, and just how far we’ve gone to avoid this very specific situation, but I still can’t keep myself from picturing it. I wonder what our new first date would be like. I wonder how long we’d manage to keep things from our friends and co-workers. I wonder what kind of tux Logan would wear to the wedding.
Probably purple.
He loves purple.
And of course, that’s when the previous night comes flooding back to knock down my defences even further. The protective way he told that guy off, told him that I was his girl . And I swear, he was so close to kissing me when I was patching him up.
We’ve made excuses for our little side glances many times in the past, along with our inside jokes that no one else gets, and the stunningly obvious fact that we’re always the first point of contact the other one reaches out to when something goes down.
Best friends.
That’s what we are, and that’s what we’ve been since we had that talk at The Hi-Dive.
But over the years, we’ve definitely almost crossed those lines a few times.
The double-date.
Aspen.
It wasn’t that long ago that I tried to put Logan Flynn’s drunk ass to bed and wound up making out with him instead.
Probably half a dozen other times if I'm honest.
As I gaze down at the ring pop, I feel his warm body press up against me, followed by his lanky arm wrapping around my waist. I stare at his tattooed fingers unconsciously pawing at me before glancing over to some slight red irritation on his wrist, from his dad’s oversized watch being left on overnight.
He groans and pulls me close, and I freeze because the next thing I feel is his still-hard cock pressed against my ass. I hold my breath, squeezing my thighs together and willing myself to stay strong.
Yes, he’s gorgeous.
Yes, I’m 99.999% certain I’m in love with him at this point.
But even if I confessed everything I’ve been thinking, who’s to say he won’t tell me he’s moved on? That I waited too long and things really have changed.
The tip of Logan’s nose brushes against the back of my neck and goosebumps prickle up on my skin. My toes curl instinctively, my brain torn between getting out of bed to escape this awkward situation, and staying right here.
I can almost hear his groans, soft but rigorous next to my ear. I want to feel his body pressing down onto mine, his hips rocking as he thrusts deep inside of me.
My heart knows what it wants, but I deny it because I have to, because it’s the right thing to do. My back arches as I feel him grind up against me, his soft moan permeating the room. I have to admit, it’s getting harder and harder with each passing day.
“Fuck.”
I close my eyes, letting that first night together flood back to me in vivid detail. The tiny bit of soft hair on the back of his neck, the way his voice broke when I sunk my nails into him.
I can even feel his hand around my throat.
Fuck, you take me so well.
Okay, this bed is The Bad Place. I need to get the hell out of here and… go for a walk or something.
I could get us some croissants. Logan loves croissants. As long as I slipped out quietly enough it wouldn’t even?—
The thought is ripped from my head the second his hand slides up my body, and in the moment or two where I could do something about it, I simply don’t.
I could just pull my leggings down and let him?—
No.
I have to get up, or this is going to get very out of control very quickly.
I hate taking the high road, being a good person who follows the rules. When I die, this better put me at the top of the list.
Did not have stupidly hot morning sex with your best friend.
Logan is still fast asleep, his brows knit together and his fingers extending along the blanket like he’s searching for something as I gently move his arm and slip out of bed. I stand there in the silent room for a moment, heart pounding as I take in features: his full lips, the soft dusting of dark blond stubble on his chin, and his slightly upturned nose. What I’m focusing the most on though, is trying to avoid staring at the raging hard-on that’s fully visible through the thin blanket.
They couldn’t have given us a duvet?
Now I have to think about how I want to straddle him, sinking down onto his perfect cock while he moans praise into my ear.
I slink toward the bathroom, gently shutting the door and running the water as I strip out of my pajamas. The first aid kit is still on the counter, along with the bloodied tissue and gauze that I used to clean up Logan’s nose. I’ll worry about that stuff later. Right now, I need some fucking release.
The moment I spot the removable shower head, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“At least something’s going right this morning.”
The water is exactly the right temperature, and I close my eyes as I lean up against the wall, letting one hand wander down my body. My mind replays that first night at the hotel. His mouth on my pussy, the way his fingers sank into my skin like they belonged there all along.
Like Brendan never happened.
I let myself get swept up in it, trying to recall the exact way he touched me, and replicate it all as the sweat starts to gather on my skin. He was so gentle and sweet, practically purring affirmations in my ear, but he brought a certain roughness with him as well.
You’re fucking perfect.
Look at how pretty you are with my cock in your mouth.
A whimper escapes my lips as I twist my nipple hard enough to make my toes grip the warm tile. My free hand slips between my legs, finding wetness and heat as I let myself explore. I hear myself whisper his name, ignoring the guilt as I strum my clit with a finger.
By the time this trip is over, I’m going to have to shower in holy water or something. I can hear his voice, I can smell the cologne and the sweat, and I still remember the way his eyes dug into mine.
Look at me when you come.
I reach for the shower head, nearly tearing it off the wall in desperation. It takes me a few seconds to adjust the pressure. Nothing too strong. One time, when I was a teenager, I had it on the highest setting and thought I was going to blast my clit off. I’ve learned to be patient… not to mention gentler.
With shaking hands, I tilt the shower head so that the stream hits my clit at the perfect angle, and I’m able to relax against the wall. I close my eyes and just let the water do its thing, adjusting my hips ever so slightly until it starts to feel really good.
Part of me wants to fill the bathroom with loud, sultry moans in the hopes that he’ll wake up, open the door, and find me like this.
And he’d say something like…
If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask, Shortcake.
I swallow my moan as I picture him turning me around and pulling my hips back so that he can take me from behind. Suddenly he’s spanking my ass, calling me a good girl, bad girl, and any number of other things that turn me on.
My toes curl against the shower floor, and I continue to play with myself until I’m almost at the brink of climax. I’m so close. So fucking close. My breathing picks up and up and up, and just as I’m about to topple over the edge, my eyes snap open and I’m greeted by the sight of a massive spider dangling from the ceiling.
The fire in my veins turns to ice in seconds and I let out a blood curdling scream. Without a second thought, I’m hurling the shower head at the spider, which is unfortunately located directly on the glass door. Luckily, it doesn’t shatter; unluckily, I miss. The spider swings toward me and I let out another scream, almost certain I can feel it land on me.
“Oh, fuck!”
I’m screeching and flailing, fighting to kill it or at least smack it off of me, and In the chaos, I step on the long metal cord that’s attached to the shower head. It scrapes against the tile and I slip, lurching forward and crashing into the glass.
The bathroom door flies open and Logan stumbles inside with a lamp that he ripped off the nightstand held high above his head. From my crumpled spot on the ground he looks like a man possessed, his hair wild and frizzy like he’s jammed his whole hand into a light socket.
“Abi what’s happening?!” He bellows, ripping the shower door open.
I shriek, wrapping my arms around my body as I try to cover my?—
Well, everything.
It’s in these moments I wish I had some sort of power or ability, like kids did when they were younger. I wouldn’t want super strength, or psychic powers or anything though. The thing I’d want is the power to make the earth open up and swallow this entire hotel on a whim. If we’re all dead, I can’t live through this embarrassment after all.
Logan freezes, and we both stare at each other in total disbelief until I feel something skitter across my bare foot and let out another terrified scream, leaping out onto the bathmat and right into his arms.
The lamp clatters to the floor as my wet, naked body presses up against him. He doesn’t move a muscle, keeping his arms outstretched, clearly unsure of what to do.
I shove him off of me and he immediately spins around, gasping in horror when he realizes he’s ended up face to face with the mirror.
“Oh my— Oh, fuck, Abi! I’m sorry!” He jams his eyes shut, blindly reaching for a towel, but smashes his hand into the drawer instead. “Ow, motherfucker!”
It still hasn’t occurred to him to just leave .
“Logan stop!” I snap, snatching a towel off the rack and wrapping it around my trembling body. “It’s— It’s fine, you can open your eyes.”
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to shake out the total humiliation of what just happened along with the water.
I’m swearing revenge against that spider in particular, for all of time.
Blood feud.
Logan turns back to face me, plucking the lamp from the floor and setting it on the counter. It looks flimsy, like it’s made of plastic and spray painted gold. I bet I could find it on Amazon for ten bucks.
“That’s your weapon of choice?” I chuckle, gesturing at it. “Not particularly imposing.”
He laughs, his eyes still puffy from sleep.
“Hey, look, I woke up to the sound of you shrieking like a banshee, what the hell was I supposed to grab? And I mean, I’m glad to see you’re okay, but what even happened?”
I glance around for a moment before honing in on the giant spider that’s managed to crawl to safety, sitting in the corner of the shower as the water continues to run.
“Logan—”
I point to it, and Logan immediately nods, brushing past me to turn the shower off and getting his pajama pants soaked in the process.
Despite growing up in the country, I’m not an insect person. I get freaked out if anything has more than four legs and moves really fast. One summer, mom and I were camping up in Quebec and something hit me in the back of the head. I thought it might have been a rock until I felt it moving. It was a cicada. I spent the rest of the trip wearing a hat and my mom had to talk me down from shaving my head.
“It’s fine,” he chuckles. “Here, get me that glass on the sink, and can you grab me a thick piece of paper? Cardstock is best. I’ll let the little dude or dudette outside.”
I cannot believe this is happening to me; maybe he was too pumped full of adrenaline to notice how flushed I was. For once, I’d really like his obliviousness to work in my favor. I rush around our room, grabbing the glass Logan asked for from our half-kitchen, and manage to find some advertising leaflets from the hotel that are on what seem like at least slightly stiffer than normal paper. When I come back into the bathroom, I watch as he deftly cups the glass around the spider, slipping the leaflet underneath and flipping the makeshift trap upside-down, effectively trapping the spider inside.
“Looks like a wolf spider,” he mutters, bringing the glass up close to his face
“Well, he can go be a wolf outside. Please.”
“You know, they really are more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re trying to ma— meditate. When you’re trying to meditate, it’s easy to get surprised!”
“Meditate?” Logan chuckles. “In the shower?”
I can feel my face burning and I start to stammer, completely losing my cool.
“Y— yeah. The, uh… the water he— helps me, uh… focus on my breathing.”
Logan quirks a brow, but he doesn’t press the subject, only shrugging as he heads out the bathroom door, and leaving me with the sinking feeling that he’s not buying any of this. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my hair, practically tearing it from my scalp in frustration.
Meditate?! A bachelor’s, a master’s, and a PhD, and meditate was the best I could come up with?
I waste as much time alone in the bathroom as I can before trudging outside, spotting Logan out on the balcony, hovering over some potted plants.
“Where are you taking that thing?!” I yelp.
“I’m letting him outside, where you can’t drown him,” he chuckles, crouching down to release the spider into some shrubs.
“I did not drown him! He attacked me in my own private bathroom!”
“Nah, you totally did! He told me so.”
I roll my eyes as Logan slips back inside, locking the door tight before he grabs the rest of his clothes from the bedside: a plain black and white striped t-shirt and a pair of slacks, along with mismatched socks. He told me it was bad luck to wear matching socks, that the last time he did it he crashed his bike into a telephone pole. Probably explains why he’s worn that ‘pair’ on and off since the day I met him.
“I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”
He brushes past me before stopping just short of the bathroom, and turning dramatically on the ball of his foot.
“Unless you want to… meditate again.”
My whole body feels like it's on fire as I stand there, stammering while he stares me down. I feel the same compulsion I always do in these situations, to give him a good hard elbow in the gut for the shitty joke, but I guess I just forgot how sexy he could look first thing in the morning. I can’t even be mad, I just wish I’d stayed in bed at this point.
For more reasons than one.
But I cannot give in. I will not give in.
“Nope, I’m all good. Totally done, do whatever you need to, I don’t care.”
Logan casually bites his lip as he tilts his head, nothing overt, but enough that those familiar feelings come rushing back with a vengeance. At this point, if he asked me, I think I’d do anything.
But he only shrugs.
“Just yell when you’re finished changing,” he calls before shutting the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Those shameful, shameful thoughts.
I let out a sigh, grabbing my suitcase and dragging it up onto the bed. I rifle through my clothes, trying to find something that’s going to be cute but comfortable in the heat. It’s supposed to get up to 35 today– Celsius, that is.
God, I have a lot of pants… Why did I bring so many pairs of pants?!
After a few more minutes of rummaging, I choose a black mini skirt and a white t-shirt. It’ll look cute with my pink Dr. Martens and vampire socks.
I stare at my exhausted reflection in the mirror before grabbing my makeup bag and painting on a few swipes of concealer and some blush. When I was a kid, my mom always said I looked a little sallow; I think it’s the black hair and pale skin combination, it washes me out.
“Hey, Shortcake?” Logan calls from the bathroom. “You decent?”
Shit. I didn’t even hear the shower turn off.
“Yeah, sorry! You can come out!”
Logan emerges in his slacks, holding the rest of his clothes in his hands, and my heart skips a beat as I struggle to drag my eyes away from his bare chest. Sometimes I forget how much he’s changed over the years, his body more toned, and a light golden color from running shirtless in the sun.
It seems like Roman had at least a bit of a positive impact on him.
“You okay?”
“Totally!” I squeak. “I was just thinking that we should get on the road if we want to make it to Manitoba by the end of the day.”
“Sounds good to me. You wanna grab some breakfast first?”
When Imogen and Roman tried to stay away from each other, she said it felt like the whole entire universe was trying to push them toward each other, like a kid enthusiastically smashing dolls together for the first time.
It sounded so ridiculous at the time, but now…
“Breakfast would be great.”
I don’t know.
Maybe some things are meant to happen after all.