Chapter 7
LOGAN
I’ve been to a lot of parties.
Enough that they all start to feel the same after a while.
But still… I’ve missed this.
It’s been a little under two weeks since Nathan Hayes hit me with his little lecture about focus and discipline and not dragging the team down.
I’ve been a goddamn saint. I’ve been early every morning, studying when I’d rather be doing anything else, and I’ve been in bed before midnight every night.
Alone, I might add, which should earn me a damn trophy.
So yeah. I’ve earned this.
One night to stop thinking about all the expectations I never asked for and the sound of Coach’s voice living rent-free in my head. One night to drink something I probably shouldn’t, flirt with someone I definitely shouldn’t, and not feel bad about it.
The kitchen still looks like a war zone from earlier.
Cups everywhere, beer puddled across the folding table.
We won, obviously. Nathan played like money was on the line, and I couldn’t stop laughing because of course he was good at it.
I don’t think he could ever be bad at anything, and I was just so happy that he decided to come after all.
Someone’s either cranked the heat or maybe it’s just the number of bodies packed into this place, but it’s hot as hell in here. I swipe the back of my hand across my forehead just as someone shouts my name.
“Gray!”
I glance up to see Eli weaving through the crowd toward me, grinning like a fool.
“You’re a fucking legend, man,” he says, smacking my shoulder hard enough to jostle my drink.
Miles isn’t far behind him, looking about three shots past sober. “Dude, this party’s insane. Thanks for hooking us up.”
I let out a laugh, even though part of me feels that familiar flicker of guilt. Nathan’s voice plays in my head—something about focus, early mornings, keeping my head on straight.
Probably not what he meant when he talked to me about team discipline.
But I can’t really judge them. I remember being that guy in freshman year, desperate to prove I belonged, wanting a good buzz and to forget about responsibilities.
My gaze drifts without meaning to, and sure enough, there he is, standing in the same spot as before, with his back against the wall.
He looks completely out of place, looking like he’s counting the minutes until he can leave.
Figures. The guy’s allergic to fun. He’s not even drinking or talking to anyone. Just watching me.
I take a slow sip of my drink to hide the smile on my lips. Of course he’s watching me. I should have known he only came to be my babysitter. Still, I’m taking the fact that he came at all as a win.
I set my cup down on the counter and make my way through the crowd, brushing off everyone as I do, and by the time I reach him, a grin is already tugging at my mouth.
“Hell of a view from over here, huh?” I say, nudging his arm with mine.
His brows pull together. “What?”
“You’ve been camped in this corner for twenty minutes,” I say, leaning in just a little. “Gotta be something worth watching.”
He barely looks at me, just gives me a quick glance before his eyes go right back to the crowd. “Figured someone should keep an eye on you.”
My grin widens. “Is that why you’ve been staring all night?”
His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t answer. Typical Hayes. He’s impossible to read, which, of course, only makes me want to poke harder.
“Come on, Hayes.” I tip my head, trying to catch his eyes. “Smile once. Drink something. Maybe even flirt. Might do you some good.”
That earns me a flush creeping up his neck, blooming high across his cheekbones before he drops his gaze back to his cup.
And that—Christ—it does something to me.
Nathan Hayes, poster boy for self-control, blushing because I teased him.
Didn’t think that was possible. Didn’t think I’d like it this much either.
“I’m just here to keep an eye on you,” he mutters again without looking up at me. He says it like he’s been sentenced to a shift he didn’t sign up for.
I roll my eyes, raking my fingers through my hair. “I don’t need a babysitter. Pretty sure I can manage drinking one beer without supervision.”
His eyes lift to mine, his brows knitting together. “You want me to go?”
I open my mouth, then close it again, holding his gaze. “That’s not what I said.”
We just look at each other.
And yeah, it’s loud—music, laughter, girls cheering around us—but somehow it all fades, and it’s just him. Those steady, dark brown eyes, flushed cheeks, that small crease forming between his brows, unspoken words passing between us.
But then Austin appears right on cue, and just like that, the moment’s gone.
“Jesus, it’s like a morgue over here,” he says, lifting his brows as he glances between us. “You two planning to actually have fun tonight, or brood each other to death?”
Nathan exhales, straightening a little. “Just talking.”
Austin grins, leaning in close enough to yell over the music. “Yeah, looked real intense from across the room. Thought I was gonna have to hose you down.”
I snort, mostly to cover the heat crawling up the back of my neck. “You done?”
“Not even close.” Austin’s gaze flicks between us again, clearly entertained. “Anyway, shots are happening. Come on.”
Nathan shakes his head before Austin’s even finished. “I’m good.”
“Obviously.” Austin rolls his eyes, then elbows me. “Logan?”
I glance at Nathan. He’s already looking away, jaw tight, expression doing that unreadable thing again. Yeah, that checks out.
“Sure,” I say, pushing off the wall. “Why the hell not.”
Austin whoops and throws an arm around my shoulders as we move back through the crowd.
A shot is pushed into my hand, and it burns going down, making my throat sting and my eyes water a little. I wipe my mouth, grin when someone cheers, and let myself lean into the noise.
It should feel good. Usually does.
But when I glance back across the room a few minutes later, the spot where Nathan was standing is empty.
I glance around the house, but I don’t see him anywhere. The place is crowded, sure, but he’s tall as fuck and stands out, and yet… he’s not here.
Someone cracks a joke beside me, and I laugh automatically, pretending I’m still in it. But the second I look away, the buzz fades. The noise goes flat.
Don’t get me wrong… I try. I down another beer, play another round of flip-cup, but my head’s somewhere else the entire time.
I keep seeing him smiling when he landed the shot, actually having fun for once before he went into bodyguard mode and stood by the wall watching me.
Now he’s just… gone.
I breathe out a laugh. No surprise, there. He lasted longer than I thought he would. But for the life of me, I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does that he left.
So I bail. I pass my drink to Miles, clap him on the shoulder, and head for the door.
The night air hits me the second I step outside, cold enough to sober me up halfway down the front steps. The music’s still going behind me, fading the farther I get from the house. For the first time all night, it’s quiet enough to think.
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets and start walking. It’s late, the streets mostly empty, and I don’t get far before my stomach growls, reminding me that three beers do not equal dinner.
I cut across the street to the little diner on the corner—the only place that’s still open at this time. The bell over the door jingles when I step inside and order two burgers and large fries.
While I wait, my phone buzzes a couple of times. I glance at the screen, seeing the texts from the guys asking where the hell I am, and I silence it and shove it deep into my pocket.
When the bag hits the counter, I hand over a crumpled bill and head back out. The grease has already soaked through the bottom of the paper bag as I cut across the parking lot.
The porch lights glow in the distance and I fish my keys from my pocket as I start to climb the stairs. I wedge the key into the lock, shoulder the door open, and step inside.
A lamp glows in the corner of the living room, and the TV’s on, the volume low, playing some rerun of a sitcom.
Nathan’s stretched across the couch, holding the remote in his hand. His hair’s damp, a little messy, curling at the edges, letting me know he just stepped out of the shower.
He glances up when he hears me, his eyes flicking toward the takeout bag in my hand before settling on my face. “I didn’t think you’d be back this early.”
I kick the door shut with my heel, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Didn’t realize you waited up.”
He doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching me with that hardass expression I’m used to.
I drop the greasy takeout bag onto the coffee table. “You eat yet?”
He shakes his head, his eyes flicking to the bag. “Just got out of the shower.”
“That’s good,” I say, kicking off my shoes before sinking down beside him. The cushions dip under our weight, our knees brushing for half a second before I lean forward and tear open the paper bag. “I bought extra.”
That earns me a quiet huff, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, reaching for the bag. “Eat before I change my mind. Call it a peace offering.”
I tear open the fries and grab a handful, the heat stinging my fingers. “God,” I groan around the first bite. “This is exactly what I needed.”
Nathan reaches for a burger, unwraps it and takes a bite. He chews, swallows, sets it down, and wipes his hands on a napkin.
“Why did you ditch the party?” he asks, finally glancing over. “You were dying to go out.”
I shrug, licking salt from my thumb. “Everyone was being annoying.”
He raises a brow, his dark brown eyes flicking to mine. “You seemed to be enjoying it.”
“Only when you were watching,” I say, smirking as I reach for another fry.
He sighs, rolling his eyes before he turns back toward the TV.
I bite back a grin and grab my burger, settling in. The sitcom plays low in the background, filling the silence.