Chapter 5
Five
Baby
“Whatcha doin’?” He goes for coy, but it doesn’t work.
“Go back to your room, Logan.”
He snorts, and it’s the only warning I get before he plants himself right next to me.
I should have gone to my room. There’s always a chance that he’ll join me when I’m out here—it’s even something I expect sometimes.
I don’t usually mind, but he’s ruined it.
He’s got people I’m close to thinking we’re an item—which is so beyond ridiculous, so absolutely stupid that I can’t even laugh.
I really should have taken my dumb ass to bed.
It’s a silly ritual, but I always watch a movie before bed. It helps me wind down. I know I could have watched something on my laptop, but I didn’t want to. I prefer the big TV.
And that has nothing to do with the fact that I thought Logan might come out here.
He stretches his arm and rests it over my shoulders, forcing a growl from between my lips.
“Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?” he asks, and for a split second, I think he’s trying to be funny. But one look at his face and I realize he’s serious. He really doesn’t know the effect he has on me. That gorgeous head of his is completely empty.
“Touch me,” I gripe. “It’s so annoying.”
He only shrugs, keeping his heavy arm right where it is. “Watching movies is better when you have someone to cuddle.”
I purse my lips. I can feel my ears getting hot.
We’re hardly cuddling. That’s not something we do.
It’s not something I’d allow. We just… kind of sit close to each other sometimes.
Maybe I lean on him—a little bit—but that’s not cuddling.
It only happens because he’s so touchy. I’m an unwilling participant.
Mostly.
I feel flushed as I remember the few times I’ve found myself sleeping on him. Luckily, we were sitting, and I was just using his shoulder as a pillow. It’d have been much worse if I’d been lying on him. Either way, I’m glad I’ve never been caught.
I probably shouldn’t be letting him get away with it now, but I’ve been pretty mean to him this week—and I don’t know that he deserved it.
I mean, am I upset about the fake boyfriend thing—sure.
But he did it for me. I didn’t even go into very much detail about how bad things got between Zeke and me, but Logan knew enough, and his instinct was to help me. There’s nothing even in it for him.
If anything, he’s sort of losing in this deal.
Logan acted on a whim, and it’s entirely possible that he’s going to regret it. What happens when we’re in front of people who think we’re a happy couple? I doubt he could play the part, that he’d want to.
My stomach starts to roll thinking about how much he might hate that. He’s a straight man. They don’t always react the best when gay guys do the whole gay thing with them.
“What are we watching?”
“Overboard,” I answer on autopilot.
“Ah. One of the many eighties romcoms that did not age well.”
I huff. He’s not all that wrong though. Kurt Russell’s character is pretty morally corrupt in this film, but if you can ignore all of that, it’s a very cute movie. I happen to like it.
“Nobody asked you to watch it.”
He shrugs again, an air of nonchalance about him that makes me want to bite. If he were anyone else, I probably would.
But Logan’s off limits.
“It’s not a bad movie. Plus, Goldie Hawn in her prime…”
I grunt, trying to shake his arm off of me. “She’s ugly,” I lie, autopilot still in effect. I love Goldie Hawn. I have a movie poster with her on it in my room at my moms’. It was one of Flo’s favorite movies, so she bought the poster for me. Gen preferred a distraction free zone.
I’ll have to take it down now. Gen will be pleased.
My moms. They think I’m dating this guy.
Flo was happy about it, and Gen was—big surprise—very much not happy.
She wants to meet him, and even when I reminded her that she already has, she insisted.
Demanded it. I should have told them the truth.
I don’t lie to my parents. Actually, the last time I did—the last big lie—was about Zeke.
“I guess she’s no Kurt Russell, but I think she’s pretty.”
I give him a side-eyed glare. “Oh? Kurt the kinda guy you’d go for?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“Nah. You’re the only guy I’ve dated.”
My face flinches. “Don’t—Logan, don’t say it like that.” I roll my shoulders again, this time managing to escape from his grasp. I’m quick to scoot away as soon as I’m free.
He’s quiet. I made things awkward. I didn’t really reveal anything incriminating, and I’m trying hard to convince myself of that, but there’s no denying that I’m the reason the mood is uncomfortable now.
It feels like everything I do—all the protective, overly exaggerated anger and disdain I throw his way—just gives me away. I’m no better than a kid in grade school tugging on his crush’s pigtails. Sooner or later, he has to see that.
“Are you mad that it’s me?”
I look at him, but he keeps his head down. “What do you mean?”
“Like… I don’t know what you’ve told Audrey about me, but does it bother you that it’s me she thinks you’re dating? Is that why you’re so upset about—”
“Logan, what are you talking about?”
He sighs, giving me another shrug that fails to convey his usual indifference. “Am I not… good enough to be your fake boyfriend?” He forces a light laugh, but it’s very clearly fake.
I can only stare, genuine confusion stealing my ability to answer such a stupid question. There’s no way he’s serious. When I don’t say anything, he looks at me with more questions on his face, and I scoff.
“You’re an actual moron, Logan.” He’s out of my league and thinks I could possibly be too stuck up to want to be seen with him? There’s not a single universe where that makes any sense.
“Wha—”
“No! I don’t think I’m too good for you. Why do you—mm.” I take a beat to compose myself. Boys. Out of all the assumptions he could have made, I can’t believe that’s what he landed on.
“So, you’re not embarrassed to be dating me?”
“We’re not dating,” I seethe.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m embarrassed, but not—”
His face falls, genuine disappointment that has me changing my tone.
I reach for his arm before deciding against it. “Not of you.” I’d die to actually date this doof. Be his boyfriend. To not have to tell him that he can’t touch me all the time so I didn’t do something nuts like try to sit on his dick or something. “It’s just embarrassing to need a fake anything.”
“Okay. I guess I get that, but why are you so mad? It almost seems like you wanted to be set up with your ex.”
“Ew. Of course not, Logan.” I’d rather eat my own pinkie than go on a date with Zeke.
“No, I just didn’t want to be set up with anyone.
Period. I can get a date on my own, y’know?
With an actual gay man. I didn’t need you to…
I don’t even get why you did it! Why would you want to do something like that? ”
“I don’t know.” He pouts a little. “I wanted to help you.”
It’s annoying how sweet he can be. I don’t actually think he’s dumb, but… gosh, sometimes he is. “It’s not going to be much help when you can’t actually act like my boyfriend.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gay guys kiss, Logan. They hold hands and…” I stop talking because I’ve never actually held anyone’s hand.
Not that way. And I have kissed guys—a few.
I’ve done a lot more than that too. It’s just been awhile, a long while.
And those aren’t the sorts of things I’d tell him outright. He’d say it’s gross.
“I can hold your hand.” He proves his point by reaching over and doing just that, and I let it happen for exactly one second before pulling away. “See, I don’t think I’m the problem here. You’re the one who can’t tolerate my touch.”
“You’re straight!”
“So?”
I huff. It’s not the first time we’ve had this back and forth. There’s no way I could explain things to him in a way he’d understand. Not without making a fool out of myself.
Maybe it’s best that I change tactics. He doesn’t get where I’m coming from, why I’m so uncomfortable with all of this, and that’s because he’s not the one feeling it. I can definitely make him as uncomfortable as I am.
A single round of gay chicken oughta do it—and I know I’ll win.
“Alright, so you can hold my hand, Logan. Good job.” I give him a dry laugh, trying to play off the embarrassment at the fact that I’m the inept one in that situation. “Now kiss me.”
“What—right now?”
I cock a brow, egging him on because I know he won’t do it. He can’t.
The confusion on his face, the way his cheeks are flushed enough that I can see it despite the only light in the room coming from the TV, the hesitation—every bit of it has a sickening mess of smug disappointment flooding my chest. It doesn’t always feel good being right all the time.
“Okay.”
That’s all the warning I get before he’s leaning in, and I react with a high-pitched squeal.
“What the fuck?” He cups the cheek I just slapped, and I’m at a loss for words. “Why’d you do that?”
“I—me? Why’d you do that?”
“I was doing what you told me to do!”
“Wha—nngh—” I did tell him to do it, but… “I didn’t think you actually would!”
But he was. He was really going to kiss me. What a freak.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Logan!” It feels like I’m talking to a wall. “Why would you? Straight boys don’t just kiss guys because someone told them to.”
He didn’t even get to do it. Logan Matthews was gonna plant one on me—me, the pervy little shit who’s had dreams about this very thing—and I fucking slapped him before he could.
“God, I’m so over hearing you say that. It should be on your dumb list. I’m gonna make my own rules and ban it.”
“You can’t make your own list.”
“Well, I’m gonna!” he snaps with the attitude of a toddler. “That’s the first rule—it’s banned. The second is you can’t fucking slap me, Baby! Especially when I’m only doing what you told me to.”
“But you are str—” I force out a breath. One thing at a time. “I’m sorry.” I honestly am. “You caught me off guard.”
The sound of Goldie Hawn in distress triggers an otherwise silence in the room. Logan’s truly upset. He should be. I can’t believe I hit him. I mean, I have before, but not like that. Not for real, and that hard, and definitely not on his face.
“I didn’t mean to, I swear.”
“Whatever.”
I sigh as we slip back into a tense silence. I guess I did manage to make him uncomfortable, after all.
“Were you really going to kiss me?” I ask because apparently things weren’t awkward enough.
“You told me to.” The exasperation tells me that I should stop, but I’m a glutton and simply don’t want to. Pressing the matter while it’s hot feels like it’s in my best interest. Anyone could call me selfish—but only because I am.
“I know, but… were you?”
I know the answer, but I want to hear it.
“Yes. Because you fucking told me to.”
It’s not as satisfying as I wanted it to be, hearing it in that tone.
He’s mad at me, being all sassy with it.
I don’t know that he’s ever been angry at me before this, and I have no clue how to take it.
It’s almost cute. It has me wanting to be a little gentle.
I even have to talk myself down from laughing.
“I’m sorry.” Things are feeling redundant at this point, but I am.
I ruined an actual golden opportunity and am living out the consequences, so of course I’m sorry.
“I was only trying to make a point—you didn’t have to.
” I definitely didn’t want to coerce a guy into doing something he didn’t want to do.
“If you didn’t want me to kiss you, you shouldn’t have told me to.”
I scoff. He’s nuts. Where the hell would he get a crazy idea like that?
But then he wipes his cheek on his shoulder, and I’m reminded.
“I wouldn’t mind if you…” I shrug, feeling debilitatingly shy at the moment.
I’m surprised I was able to get that much out.
There’s no way I can finish the thought.
Except I have to. “I don’t know—” It’s hard to say, but I don’t want to have missed my only chance.
“If you, like, tried again. For practice.”
The rush of blood that floods my face almost has me feeling nauseated.
I’m sitting still on a cozy couch and feel seasick.
Part of me wants to take it back, throw a just kidding out there and hope he doesn’t see right through me.
But mostly I want him to acknowledge what I said and not reject the idea.
Reject me.
“So you can slap me again?” He scoffs.
“I wouldn’t.”
He arches a brow, clearly not believing me.
I make a show out of putting my arms behind my back and move to my knees so that I can face him better. I’m eager. Too eager, and it takes everything in me to calm down enough to—hopefully—hide it. But my heart is pounding so hard I can feel every thud bouncing off my ribs.
“I promise.”
I stare at him with as neutral an expression as I can manage, but as soon as he starts to lean in, all pretense is over with. I lick my lips and reach for his face, ruining the moment when it triggers a flinch.
“Sorry.” I swallow. “You don’t have to.” The look on his face has me doubting everything. “Actually, if you can’t at least pretend to enjoy it, then don’t. I—”
“Baby, shut the fuck up.”
I’m mildly shocked at the order, not used to them coming from him, but I let it go. I did just slap him. “Okay.” I look at my hands, where they’re balled on my thighs, and will them not to fidget.
I know I deserved a little animosity, the rude words and tone are probably the least of what I deserve, but I don’t like it. Being talked to like that—by Logan, who’s usually very nice to me—hurts my feelings.
Especially since I basically just begged him to kiss me.
It was a stupid idea. All of it. The moment passed as soon as I smacked him—something I’m going to remember on my deathbed as the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.
His palm skims the side of my face, a soft and hesitant touch—so unlike the one I gave his cheek just moments ago—and I hold my breath.
His thumb sweeps its way under my eye, and I know he wants me to look up, but I can’t.
Not until his hand is moving again, sliding down my jaw and stopping beneath my chin so he can angle my head where he wants it.
And then his lips are there.