11. Logan
Logan
The night Chase came over really put a couple of things into perspective for me.
One, it’s been too fucking long since my body craved the touch of another man.
And two, I’m going to embarrass myself and possibly ruin the only budding friendship I’ve managed to make in the four years since moving out here if I don’t get laid sooner rather than later.
I’m holding on to the hope that maybe it wasn’t Chase at all. Maybe it was just my body finally waking the hell up and getting on board with getting over Stone.
Tonight is the perfect night to test that theory and finally circle back to the app profile I’d made a few weeks ago, because back in Ricochet, they’re gearing up for the annual Christmas party at Summit, and I’m in dire need of a distraction so I don’t drive myself insane thinking about Stone parading Hanlon around in front of everyone with his arm possessively around his fiancé’s waist.
Tonight, I’m meeting Raul, a columnist for a cooking magazine.
The dark hair and dark eyes on his profile picture are definitely what attracted me to him, but thankfully, he doesn’t look anything like Stone.
His skin is certainly more olive-toned than Stone’s, and his eyes are a different shape.
I almost passed when I saw he had a fear of heights listed, but figured, what the hell?
I’m not looking for a marriage proposal, just a night to blow off some steam.
Though I’m second-guessing everything about this as I pull up outside the restaurant. I want to go back to my condo and hide… and that pisses me off. I’m mad at Stone for breaking me, but I’m madder at myself for letting him.
Deciding enough is enough, I shut the engine off and make my way to the front doors.
We said we’d meet at the bar, and it doesn’t take long before I spot the unmistakable paisley-patterned shirt he said he’d be wearing.
I smile to myself.
Stone would say that’s the ugliest shit he’s ever seen.
Goddammit.
Tonight is not about Stone. Nothing is about Stone. Not anymore. Not ever again.
Raul recognizes me as I move toward the bar, and a shy smile creeps across his face.
Online hookups are so strange. I mean, I guess they don’t all end up with strangers getting naked, but I wasn’t shy about where I was hoping to be by the end of the night.
“This seat taken?” I ask lamely, spinning the barstool next to him toward me.
“Only by you,” he replies, holding out his hand. “Raul.”
“Logan,” I reply with a nod, slipping onto the padded leather seat.
Raul’s profile said he was a year older than me, but he doesn’t look it.
“Can I get you a drink?” he offers.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I reply in an effort to show interest in his tastes.
Until a Cosmo lands in front of me.
Raul clinks his glass against mine, and it takes every ounce of social etiquette I can summon to not wince at the god-awful flavor.
The desire to continue this night is as non-existent as my love of Cosmos, but dammit, I need to know that things can still function when I’m with someone other than Chase.
But the longer our small talk goes on, the bleaker the outlook becomes. Raul’s nice enough, but I can’t just magically make chemistry appear, and when he leans in, his breath hot on my neck, the urge to bolt is strong.
Just as I’m about to apologize profusely and go home alone, a group of nine comes strolling through the door. They’re talking at a respectful volume, but the group is so large, they’re hard to miss.
Especially the giant in the back wearing light blue scrubs.
“Logan? Did you hear me?”
I return my attention to Raul and answer honestly.
“I must’ve spaced out for a second. I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He looks apologetic as he asks, “Would you be terribly disappointed if we call it a little early? I’ve forgotten about an article I’m supposed to have on my editor’s desk by eight a.m.”
He’s lying, of course, but he’s being tactful about it, and I’m grateful for the out.
I buy his drink. It’s the least I can do since he put way more effort into tonight than I did, and we shake hands before he quietly exits the restaurant, clearly feeling my lack of enthusiasm.
Flagging down the bartender, I place an order for bourbon on the rocks, needing the burn to eradicate the sweetness of the Cosmo.
As I’m waiting for my order, my eyes wander toward the group now seated at the back of the restaurant.
The meeting looks very studious with everyone’s serious expressions and hand gestures.
They don’t talk over each other, mostly because the man at the head of the table looks like he wouldn’t allow it, but they all seem eager to get a word in edgewise.
I should go home and try to get some sleep, but I know it’ll just end with me drinking more in an effort to banish Stone’s face from my mind. At least here, I’ll limit myself to this last one since I have to drive home.
Halfway through my new drink, I’m close to doing the dumbest thing imaginable—sending Stone a Merry Christmas and Congratulations text when a large hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“Thought that was you over here,” Chase says, propping one butt-cheek on the vacated bar stool next to me as though he can’t stay long enough to get his full ass on the chair. “Hot date?”
“Hey Chase. Uh, it was a date, but it kind of fizzled out, definitely not something I would classify as hot.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely.
“What about you?” I ask, throwing a glance over my shoulder. “Meeting all done?”
“Thankfully. I’m dead on my feet,” he answers.
Looking at him more closely, I see the bags under his eyes are bigger than normal, and he’s blinking rapidly like people do when they’re fighting as hard as they can to keep their eyes open.
“Did you drive here?” I ask, unable to hide the concern in my voice.
“No, I rode with my roommate, Jackson. Big mistake though. His car smells worse than his room, and I got something sticky on my hand on the ride over, but I was too disgusted to turn on the light, so I just wiped it on a shirt I found in his floorboard… although that probably wasn’t super sanitary either.
I should really go wash my hands because if I get sick, I won’t be able to spend Christmas with Marcy and I promised—”
“Hey, Chase?” I say, interrupting his ramble of exhaustion.
“Hmm?” he hums as I throw money down on the bar.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Nah, man. You don’t have to do that. It’s out of the way.”
“Trust me. I’d rather stall by taking you home than lie in bed alone, staring at my ceiling for the next three hours while sleep evades me.”
“Damn,” Chase groans. “I wish I could give you some of my fatigue. You’d fall asleep before your head hit the fucking pillow.”
“Do you ever get a day off?” I ask, unsure how a residency schedule works.
A tired laugh bubbles from Chase’s lips.
“Technically, yes. We’re required to have one day off a week, but most of us spend it studying, doing patient chart reviews, preparing presentations, or attending some dinner or lunch hosted by a drug rep that we’re expected to show up for.”
My eyes widen.
“That’s a lot.”
“Nothing I didn’t expect,” Chase says, holding his hand up to yawn into his fist.
“Come on. Let’s get you home.”
When we reach his table, Chase grabs his jacket and starts his goodbyes.
“Jackson, I’ll see you at home. I’m gonna catch a ride with Logan.”
A woman’s head whips toward Chase.
“Who? I could’ve given you a ride home if you didn’t want to suffer Jackson’s odormobile.”
“It’s not that bad,” says the man I’m assuming is Jackson.
Chase quickly replies, “Just a friend I ran into. See you guys tomorrow.” With a quick nod, telling me he’s ready to go, I turn toward the door. I almost freeze when his hand lands on my lower back, until I feel him pushing me forward slightly.
He just wants to get the hell out of here, but the warmth of his hand seeping through my shirt, and his giant body crowding my space from behind, is starting to give me the feeling I came here to find.
Which isn’t good at all.