Chapter 19
ALEX
Islam the door closed behind me and brace myself against it.
This can’t go on. There’s no way Logan hasn’t caught on by now.
It’s a dangerous tightrope I’m walking.
I just can’t get over how sweet and nice he is. The way he bonded with Naomi? Where did that even come from?
I press a hand to my chest and puff out a breath, trying to ignore the budding feeling there, even though I know ignoring it won’t make it go away.
Because I can’t let myself keep feeling this way about someone who can’t feel the same about me.
Someone who’s vulnerable and just needs somebody to be there for him.
Especially after he backed away when I went in for a kiss. How did I let myself do that? How stupid am I?
Mason was right. Maybe I should just give him some space. Let him come to me when he needs me, like in a normal friendship.
I find Mom and Naomi at the dinner table, eating takeout pizza.
“Thanks for picking up Naomi,” Mom says, smiling at me before taking a bite of her pizza.
“No problem. Didn’t know where all that rain came from,” I say, taking a seat across from her.
“He picked me up with a friend,” Naomi says.
Mom immediately raises an eyebrow. “Which friend?”
“Logan. We were studying together at Lullaby, and Naomi called when I was about to drop him off.”
“Well, that was nice of him to stay,” she says, wiping her hands on a napkin.
“Yeah,” I say before taking a bite of my own cheese pizza.
“He likes Percy Jackson and my hair clips,” Naomi says with a smile.
Mom smiles back. “Sounds like he has a lot in common with you.”
My heart flutters at how seamlessly Logan has already slipped into my world, especially Naomi’s, after only a few interactions.
“What does he do?” Mom asks.
“He used to be on the Hornets, but now he’s a student,” I say carefully. I don’t want to give away too much.
“Used to be on the Hornets?” she asks.
“He got injured.”
She purses her lips, then takes a bite of her side salad.
“But he’s nice?” she asks. There’s something in her tone that implies more, but I don’t want to encourage it.
“Yeah.”
She snorts. “Hopefully nicer than Scott.”
“Everyone’s nicer than Scott,” I mumble.
I finish my dinner quickly because I don’t want to keep dodging questions about Logan. I know Mom will crack me eventually.
Afterward, I plop onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling.
Where is this supposed to go? I already can’t stop thinking about Logan.
I keep trying to tell myself that I can’t let him become a distraction, but he already has.
Maybe I should spend less time worrying about crossing his boundaries and more time making sure he doesn’t cross mine instead.
Dearest Alexander,
Could you run the editorial meeting for me on Monday? I’ve caught a cold and don’t have the energy to lead.
With much love,
Fiona
That’s the email I read as I speed-walk my way to work.
I already told her I’m not the co-editor, so why is she making me act like I am? If she wants me to lead the team meeting, then let me lead it alongside her.
But maybe it’s a test to see if I can handle being chief editor. If I can successfully organize and lead the meeting, it might strengthen my chances of becoming editor next year.
I file away my anxieties about leading my peers for a day as I walk into The Honeycomb.
“There he is,” Vicki says to Simon, as if he’d been wondering where I was.
“What’s going on?” I ask, a slight edge of panic creeping into my voice.
Vicki darts her eyes to the right, motioning toward the drink hand-off area.
Fiona is standing in the corner, her thermos in one hand and her phone in the other.
“Fiona?”
She looks up and immediately storms over to me. “Did you get my email?”
I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I did.”
“So, you’re good for Monday then?” she asks, narrowing her eyes like she’s waiting for me to crack.
One thing about Fiona is that her patience is thinner than a sheet of paper. I’m not that surprised she actually came into my workplace to confirm I got her email.
“I was going to reply after work, but yes, I’ll be fine.”
“Good. I’d hate for the opportunity to go to someone else.”
I study her. She doesn’t really look very sick to me. She’s dressed in her usual clothes and still has her thermos in hand, which could be full of tea, but she doesn’t seem nearly as ill as she claims to be.
I deliberately ignore the lack of symptoms and head behind the counter to put my things away before starting my shift.
“Hello? Are you going to take my order or what?” Fiona’s voice rings out behind me.
I spin around and notice her snapping her fingers at Vicki, who’s on her phone, pretending Fiona isn’t there.
“Vicki?” I ask, panic rushing through me.
Vicki looks up from her phone and smirks.
I hurry over to Fiona. “Sorry—what would you like?”
Fiona slams her thermos onto the counter while staring daggers at Vicki. “I’ve never had such terrible customer service.”
“Oh, last time you were here, you told me not to talk to you, so I assumed you didn’t need me to acknowledge you,” Vicki says, flashing Fiona a painfully plastered smile.
Fiona scoffs. “I was talking to my colleague then, and you interrupted us.”
“And I was trying to help you, but you snapped at me instead. Let that be a lesson in being nicer to customer service workers.”
Fiona opens her mouth, then closes it, and I think, for the first time in the two years I’ve worked with her, someone has actually managed to shut her up.
She crosses her arms and scrunches her nose. “Fine. I might have been… a bit rude,” she mumbles.
Vicki snorts. “A little bit.”
Fiona rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’m sorry. Can you just make me my damn coffee?”
Vicki raises her eyebrows expectantly, as if Fiona has committed another customer service sin.
Fiona sighs. “Can you please make my coffee for me? Thank you.”
“That’s better.”
Vicki takes Fiona’s thermos and places it beneath the carafe of dark roast drip coffee.
“How long have you been working here?” Fiona asks.
I open my mouth to answer, forgetting for a moment that she already knows how long I’ve worked here. Then I realize she’s talking to Vicki.
“About a year and a half.”
Fiona snorts. “No wonder you know how to corral people. I appreciate that in a woman.”
I step away from the counter and walk over to Simon.
“Can I get a large latte with an extra shot?”
Simon glances at Fiona and Vicki chatting, then back at me. “Sure.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
I immediately want to text Logan about the news that I’m leading the meeting on Monday, but after last night, I can’t let myself do it.
I need to give him some space, even if it kills me.
I can’t let this tiny crush develop into anything more. Otherwise, I might throw everything away for the chance to feel Logan’s lips on mine, and I don’t know if that would be worth it.