Chapter 3 #2
Peter dives into his sandwich like he hasn’t eaten in days, but his eyes keep flicking to me, as though he’s waiting for me to crack.
“You’re weird, you know that?” he says around a mouthful of bread and bacon. “Hot waitress. Nothing. That brunette at the frat party last week? Also nothing. You’re like…a monk. You turn them all down. Do you need me to play wingman for you?”
I choke on my fry. “I’m not a monk. And I don’t need your help to find a hook-up.”
“Pretty close,” he mutters, smirking. “And you help me all the time, dude, I can return the favor.”
I roll my eyes and focus on my burger. If I keep chewing, I can’t say something stupid.
If I keep chewing, I don’t have to admit that maybe—maybe—he’s not wrong.
It might be time for a discreet hook-up on Prism.
As long as they aren’t students here, the city is pretty big, and I’m not opposed to driving a little bit.
It’s my go-to when I get too tense—a little release, no strings sort of night.
No repeats. I don’t need the distraction of feelings.
Peter changes the subject to practice, to Coach’s obsession with our timing. Nationals. Scouting. Our best shot yet. It’s safer ground, and I let him ramble while I nod and shovel in fries.
Halfway through my burger, the bell over the door jingles. I glance up—and nearly swallow my tongue.
Logan strolls in like he owns the place, dark hair damp from his shower, a navy Henley stretched across his chest like it was custom-made. He’s got that lazy, cocky smile that makes my stomach drop straight to my sneakers.
Daniel and Eli are by his side, the three of them laughing like old friends even though they’ve known each other for, what, five minutes? Of course they’ve found the only other openly gay guy in the locker room and adopted him. That’s very on brand for both of them.
Logan spots me instantly. His grin widens like this is the punchline of some cosmic joke.
Peter notices my death grip on my burger and follows my gaze. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I yank my attention away from them and stare down at my fries. Maybe if I don’t make eye contact, he’ll—
“Hey, Captain.”
Nope. He’s at the table.
I force myself to look up. “Brooks.”
Daniel gestures to one of the empty seats in the booth. “Mind if we sit? Logan said this place was on his bucket list. If we knew you were coming, we would’ve tagged along.”
I roll my eyes. Right. It’s a hole-in-the-wall diner with decent fries and the same waitress who’s worked here since my freshman year. Hardly a bucket-list spot.
Peter just shrugs, clearly entertained, while Logan slides into the booth across from me like this is all perfectly normal. Daniel drops in beside me, both of them smelling faintly of soap and the rink. Eli drags a chair over to the end of the table, still in his team hoodie.
“Pretty sure you guys didn’t shower,” Eli says with a grin. “You’re making the whole place smell like the locker room.” He wrinkles his nose and leans back.
“Shaw was in a hurry,” Peter says, grinning. “Starving, from working up an appetite shadowing our newbie.” He lifts his brows at Logan. “You’re so fire on that ice you’re gonna melt it, man.”
Logan grins back his stupid dimple popping, unfazed. “Guess I just bring the heat.”
Daniel snorts. “You bring something, all right.”
“Pretty sure that’s what Coach said too,” Logan fires back, eyes cutting toward me. “Said we’re lethal together, right?”
I stab another fry into the ketchup like I’m murdering it the way I want to murder him. “He said if we figure our timing out. Big if.”
“Ouch.” Logan clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me.”
Daniel leans in, smirking. “If we’re talking heat, maybe let us eat before you two start eye-flirting across the table, yeah?”
Eli snorts. “It’s too early in the season for this much chaos.”
“Chaos keeps things interesting,” Daniel fires back, waving down the waitress. “Now order something before Shaw’s fries disappear.”
Eli groans. “Every damn year. New season, same idiots.”
“Tradition,” Peter says, smirking.
I can feel Logan’s gaze on me even while the others are laughing and flipping through their menu. It’s like static under my skin—too aware, too close. I shouldn’t look up, but of course I do.
He’s already watching, that knowing half-smile tugging at his mouth—the one that makes my pulse do something it shouldn’t. His dimple makes an appearance, and I want to lick it off him.
What? No. Not lick it—punch it.
Fuck, he’s messing with my head.
“Small-town diner,” Logan says casually, scanning the menu even though the options are painted on the wall. “Feels like home already.”
Peter’s eyebrows bounce, but mine are locked on him in a death glare that I hope clearly communicates Go away, go away, go away.
Logan leans back, all easy confidence, one arm stretched across the booth. “Good practice today.”
I grunt something that could pass for agreement.
Daniel picks up the thread immediately, grinning. “Good? That was solid, man. Coach looked like he was gonna propose after that last run.”
“Please,” Eli says, smiling. “Coach proposes to anyone who can skate backward without falling. His standards are underground.”
Logan chuckles, low and warm. “Still, not bad for my first day, huh?”
“Not bad?” Peter laughs, pointing his straw at him. “You two were locked in like you’ve been paired for years.”
“Chemistry,” Daniel says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You can’t fake that.”
I stab another fry, jaw tight. “It’s called coordination.”
“Sure,” Daniel says. “And the way you two look at each other during drills? Totally professional coordination.”
Eli leans back, smirking. “To be fair, if I had a partner who looked like that, I’d stare too.”
Logan turns that grin on him, but his gaze flicks right back to me. “Appreciate it, Starling.”
“Don’t encourage him,” I mutter.
“Who, me?” Logan’s voice dips, teasing. “I’m just trying to make friends, Captain.”
“Try less.”
Peter snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that. Once Starling latches on, he doesn’t let go. He followed me on every social before practice even ended last year when he was a rookie.”
Daniel elbows him. “He followed everyone. Equal opportunity stalker.”
Eli grins. “Says one of the guys who helped me stalk Max, thank you very much.”
“Worked out for you, didn’t it?” Daniel fires back.
Logan chuckles, leaning an elbow on the table. “Guess I picked the right team. Seems like everyone here’s got experience chasing what they want.”
That earns a round of laughter, but it dies quickly when his eyes slide back to me.
“Good thing I’m persistent,” he adds, voice low enough that it barely makes it across the table.
I stab another fry into my ketchup, trying to pretend my pulse isn’t spiking. “You’re also annoying.”
“Mutually exclusive qualities,” he says easily.
Daniel groans, leaning back. “God, the sexual tension is killing me.”
Eli shoves his shoulder. “Stop narrating it.”
Peter raises his glass. “To surviving another year of locker-room drama.”
“Cheers,” Daniel and Eli say together, clinking their waters.
I keep my eyes on the table, pretending not to notice Logan watching me over the rim of his coffee cup—like he’s already playing a game I never agreed to join.
And I hate that I can feel myself losing.
Because when he finally looks away, I have to fight the urge to look right back.
The waitress reappears before the table can spiral into another round of teasing.
I glance up long enough to catch the name on her tag—Janine—before looking back down at my fries.
She’s worked here for years, and I don’t think I’ve ever been observant enough to actually read her name.
I’m sure Peter has, though, which is ironic.
“You boys ready to order?” she asks, pulling a pen from behind her ear.
Daniel grins. “Grilled cheese, curly fries, Coke.”
Eli brightens. “Turkey club—extra pickles—and, uh, can I get a slice of that chocolate cream pie too?”
Janine laughs. “You sure you don’t want dessert after lunch, sweetheart?”
Eli shakes his head, completely unbothered. “Nope. Why wait for the good stuff?”
Peter groans. “You’re gonna lose all your teeth before playoffs.”
Daniel snorts. “Man orders pie like it’s a food group.”
Eli shrugs. “Consistency builds character.”
The whole table laughs, and for a second, it almost feels normal. Then Janine’s attention lands on Logan. “And you, handsome?”
Of course she calls him handsome.
Logan doesn’t miss a beat. “What do you recommend?”
Janine tilts her head, playful. “Depends what you’re craving.”
He grins, voice smooth as ever. “Guess I’m open to suggestions.”
Her laugh is soft, warm. “Dangerous answer.”
“Worth it,” he says, leaning back in the booth, one arm stretched across the top.
My jaw tightens. He’s not serious—he’s just doing it to get a rise out of me. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
She jots something on her pad, still smiling. “All right, risk-taker. I’ll surprise you.”
He winks. “Can’t wait.”
Janine chuckles and walks off toward the counter, calling the order in.
Peter whistles. “That was smooth. Maybe you should be my wingman.”
Daniel laughs. “Guy’s been here five minutes and already charming the locals.”
Logan flashes a grin. “Just being friendly.”
I bite my straw, clenching my teeth. Friendly. Sure. He’s baiting me, and the worst part? It’s working.
Every word, every look—it’s deliberate. Calculated. And it’s doing exactly what he wants it to.
I don’t even like guys who flirt like that. Except apparently, I do. Because if he turned that on me, I’d probably be a goner. And all I can think about is his mouth and that damn dimple that is going to live rent-free inside my head.
I shove another fry in my mouth and tell myself I’m definitely getting on Prism tonight.
I need to get this out of my system before it eats me alive.
Daniel bumps me with his shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet.”