Chapter 30 Logan
LOGAN
It’s his eyes. Has to be.
It’s the only explanation for why I walked in here starving and then completely forgot what I left my warm bed for.
They’re big and brown and way too serious, like he’s thinking about twelve different things and not planning to say any of them out loud. I’ve been fixated on them since freshman year, back when he’d narrow them at me every time I opened my mouth. Used to be my favorite thing. Still kind of is.
But now I think I like them better when they go soft. When he looks at me like he sees straight through every joke and deflection and isn’t scared off by any of it.
Although, I’ve got to say, making them roll back when I have my mouth on his cock is also fun as hell.
I blink, trying to remember what I was doing. Oh—dumplings. Right.
Nathan glances up from where he’s leaning on the counter, his eyes flicking down to what I’m wearing—sweats and an old band T-shirt I slept in—and then back up to my face.
“You’re not getting dressed?” he asks, his eyebrows doing that little tilt thing that usually means he’s trying to figure me out.
“Nah,” I reply with a shrug as I reach into the freezer. “Not feeling it,” I mutter, ripping open the bag of dumplings.
I catch him from the corner of my eye, watching me with a puzzled expression on his face. “You’re sick,” he says.
I frown. “What are you talking about? I’m not sick.”
“You would only skip the bar if you were dying.”
I roll my eyes. So dramatic.
“Or,” I say, flicking on the stove, “I just wanna stay home with you tonight.”
His brows lift in surprise, the corner of his mouth lifting a little.
And because I can’t help myself, I glance at him over my shoulder and flash him a teasing smirk. “Also means we can fuck without the guys hearing us.”
He goes red in seconds. His ears, neck, cheeks, and I fucking eat it up.
“You’re loud as hell,” I add, turning to flip the first dumpling into the pan. “And even though it’s hot as fuck covering that pretty mouth of yours, I’d kind of like to hear you moan my name.”
He lets out a quiet groan and turns away, running a hand down his face.
A chuckle leaves my lips. Teasing Nathan is my favorite thing in the world. No doubt.
He pushes off the counter and comes to stand beside me, peering into the pan as I drop the dumplings into it.
I lift my eyes to his—fuck, those eyes—and arch a brow. “I am capable of making some dumplings, ya know?” Sure, they’re frozen… but still. “I don’t need supervision.”
He hums. “I’m just making sure you don’t burn them.”
“No faith in me,” I add with a sigh, but I flip them anyway before they actually do burn, because he’s right. I get distracted too easily around him and forget about everything else.
He chuckles, his arm brushing mine when he reaches over for the oil, pouring a little in.
I throw him a quick wink and he tilts his head, his lips curving into a small smile, something warm settling under my ribs.
He folds his arms loosely, watching me cook like this is just what we do. And my brain jumps ahead, letting myself imagine doing this with him years from now.
My throat tightens, liking that image a little too much.
I grab a pitcher of water, pouring some into the pan to steam them, and a few minutes later, when the dumplings are done, I dump them into a bowl, grab two forks off the counter, and tilt my head toward the living room.
“C’mon.”
He follows me and drops down on the couch beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine.
He waits maybe all of ten seconds before he reaches in and steals one, but as soon as he bites into it, the steaming soup inside burns his mouth.
“Shit.” He jerks back, fanning his mouth.
I lose it, tipping my head back as I let out a laugh. Nathan shoots me an unimpressed look, as he reaches for a soda and drinks it, cooling the burn in his mouth.
He puts on a random movie and we eat in silence, his thigh touching mine and his fingers finding mine between us on the couch. I pretend to be focused on the screen even though I’m very much not.
A few minutes into the movie, Nathan shifts, resting against the back of the couch, where my arm is stretched behind him, his hair tickling my skin. He looks relaxed. Happier than he usually lets himself look, and I’m so fucking happy I get to be the reason why.
Fuck, I just want the guys to head out so we have the house to ourselves and I can kiss him without worrying one of them will come down.
I nudge him lightly with my knee. “You been working on that comic lately?”
He nods, his eyes still on the movie. “Yeah. Almost done. I just have the last two pages to finish.”
“That’s good,” I say with a nod. “Because I, uh… actually found something for you earlier.”
His gaze slides to mine, his brows dipping as he waits for me to continue.
I grab my phone from the coffee table and scroll for a sec, flicking open my browser and turning the screen toward him.
“It’s this publishing competition thing,” I say, angling the phone so he can read it. “For new comic creators. You send in your stuff, and if they pick it, you get a publishing contract.”
Nathan takes the phone, squinting at it. His eyes move fast through the page and then he blinks, glancing back at me. “Why’d you look this up?”
I shrug. “I started looking at some comic stuff and this came up.”
Which is technically true. I just left out the part where I scrolled for way too long trying to find something that would be great for what Nathan is working on.
“I thought it looked cool,” I add with a shrug. “And I figured you might want to send something in. What’s the harm?”
He keeps staring at me. And for a second, I wonder if I went too far and then he huffs out a breath, glancing down at the phone again. “There’s like a zero in a million chance I’ll get picked.”
“You’re miles better than the usual shit that gets published,” I say, nudging him with my thigh. “You’re incredibly talented, Nathan.” His eyes meet mine, nerves swimming in them. “You should send it in.”
He exhales, handing my phone back with a small shake of his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I do,” I say, and before I can second-guess it, I reach over and take his hand. His fingers go still under mine for a second before they thread through mine. “Your comic is so fucking cool. You deserve to do something you enjoy.”
He doesn’t answer, but doesn’t pull away either. His shoulders drop a little, like whatever tension he was holding finally lets go and his eyes flicker down to my mouth.
But then he lifts his eyes to somewhere behind me, and suddenly he jerks back, his fingers slipping from mine.
By the time I blink, wondering what the fuck just happened, there’s a full foot of space between us on the couch.
My stomach drops, even before I turn to see why.
Austin appears at the bottom of the stairs and stops in his tracks when he sees me on the couch. “You’re not dressed.”
I lift my brows. “Excellent observation.”
He blinks. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Ryan’s right behind him, one arm halfway into his jacket, and he also stops. “Wait. You’re not coming?”
I sigh and lean back on the couch. “Jesus. Can a guy not decide to stay home for one night without getting interrogated?”
Austin narrows his eyes. “You feeling okay?”
Why does everyone assume I must be sick if I don’t want to go out? “I’m fine,” I assure him.
He tilts his head, suspicious. “Did you lose a bet or something?”
I roll my eyes. “No. I just want to stay home tonight.”
Austin watches me for a while before a smirk tugs at his lips. “It’s because of Nathan, isn’t it?”
I freeze, my eyes widening slightly. What the fuck? How did he—
Austin laughs, clapping Ryan on the shoulder before I can even process what he just said. “Told you he was rubbing off on him. This is exactly how it starts. First you skip a night out at the bar. Next thing you know, you’re meal prepping quinoa.”
I glance back at Nathan when the guys laugh, but he won’t even fucking look at me. Too scared they’ll see him spare me a glance and somehow put two and two together.
Something in me just… sinks.
He was touching me like he wanted me, looking at me like we were the only ones in the fucking world, and then the second someone else walked into the room?
Poof. Gone.
It’s not like I need some grand declaration from him or something, but we’ve been in each other’s beds every damn night, sleeping in each other’s arms, whispering shit you don’t tell someone you don’t care about.
But now… I just feel stupid, like I misread every single moment between us.
I thought after Cole and Aurora caught us, he was starting to… open up. Warm up to the idea of people knowing.
But maybe that was just me. Maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see.
What if I’m the stupid moron who caught feelings and all he wanted from me was to use me as his little experiment to figure out if he likes dick?
Well. He got his answer.
I swallow around the lump in my throat.
That’s all anyone ever fucking uses me for, isn’t it? A little fun in the dark and completely fucking forgettable in the light. Good enough to fuck in secret, but never good enough for anyone to actually choose.
I told myself I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel like that again after what happened with Finn in high school. I swore it.
But fuck… it’s Nathan, and I let myself hope. I actually thought—
Fuck.
My throat tightens and I stand up before I do something embarrassing, like admitting to him I haven’t wanted anyone like I want him.
“Wait up,” I tell the guys. “I’m coming.”
Nathan’s head snaps up, finally looking at me since Austin and Ryan entered the room. “You’re going?”
I turn to him, stuffing my hands in my pockets and lifting my shoulders. “Is there a reason for me to stay?”
I stand there, watching him, giving him a chance to say something—anything—that’ll keep me here.
His mouth parts and I hold my breath, thinking he might say something, but nothing comes out. His gaze drops again like he can’t quite bring himself to look me in the eye.
I nod, letting out a scoff. “Right.”
I turn, pushing past the guys as I make my way up the stairs, forcing my legs to carry me toward my room, even though my chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.
I don’t look back. I don’t wait to see if he’ll stop me.
Because I already know he won’t.