Chapter 19
I sat for an hour and a half, holding a warm beer in somebody’s dorm room while Chloe and Abby charmed a couple of guys and another made a move on me that I shut down pretty quickly.
At midnight I figured the night had peaked with the tiramisu and I should just head back to Creyts, which was two dorms away from the one we were currently at.
One of the guys offered to walk me, but I didn’t want to spend any more time with him, or encourage him in any way.
And at midnight on a Friday, there were enough people walking between the dorms that I felt completely safe for the couple hundred yards to the corner of campus where Creyts sat.
Across Sturgess I looked at the student houses, most lit up, with several people spilled out onto the sparse lawns, beers in hand, music playing from unseen speakers.
When I got to just across from Logan’s house, I stopped.
Would he be home yet? Would the visit with his parents have gone well?
Had he gotten pissed at them again once I was out of the picture?
There had been a few vibe shifts during the meal.
Where had he ended up in terms of headspace?
Had he even gotten a chance to process the presentation for his brother?
Would he want to talk?
To me?
Now?
I pulled my phone out and called up our text thread, thumbs poised, then stopped.
Was I a Ches? Maybe. Probably. But the difference was that I wanted to comfort my friend if he needed it. It was a slim difference to hang my pride on, but it was enough.
Are you at home? I’m nearby. On the corner.
There were the bubbles and then they stopped. A feeling of dread came over me. Stupid, stupid. How many texts would he have gotten tonight after their first game? After that moment for James.
He’d be dealing with people all up in his space, and he didn’t need another one.
I turned away from his house, toward Creyts, and was just about to text him to never mind when I heard my name called out.
He was on his front porch, feet bare, dressed in jeans and a white Bribury Hockey tee that pulled tight against his broad chest. His hair was disheveled.
“Hey, Megan. Come back.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude if you want to be…” I was going to say alone, but maybe he wasn’t. Maybe his parents had circled back and were in his house. Maybe a party was forming, though it didn’t look like lots of silhouettes through the curtains, and no one was on their lawn.
Maybe he had a girl in his room.
He wouldn’t have had a lot of time to arrange that, but given the girls that had hung around the arena, and how surely Ches (or others) would break speed records to show up if he texted her, I couldn’t be positive.
“Please. Come in,” he said, loudly enough to hear across the Sturgess traffic.
He held my eyes as I waited to cross the street and walked up to his front porch.
He came down the steps and took my hand when I got to him.
“I’m so glad you texted. I was going to text you when I got back, but I didn’t want to… ”
“Seem desperate? Yeah, leave that to me,” I said, trying to show I was kidding, when I wasn’t.
He pulled me tight against him. “Desperate? You? When I’ve been doing all the chasing? Hardly.”
I would not even remotely call Logan’s behavior chasing, but I allowed myself a second of internal preening that he might think so. Clearly chasing was so out of his realm that mild interest must have felt like a full-court press to him.
Only Dex and Philly were in the living room. They both did not seem surprised to see me, and they both looked pointedly at Logan holding my hand. Firmly and tightly.
“Join us?” Philly asked, pointing at one of the empty couches.
I was afraid to look at the TV in case in some odd, alternate universe, The Hunt for Red October was playing again. Logan had been triggered enough tonight.
But it was just a hockey game.
“West Coast games. Works perfectly for late nights here,” Dex explained.
I looked to Logan to take his cue on if he wanted to watch the game with his friends or—
“Thanks. But we’re going to head to my room.” He didn’t ask if that was okay with me. He knew that would be my preference.
“Cool, cool. What’d you think of your first college hockey game, Megan?” Dex asked.
“I loved it,” I said, surprising myself with the fast answer, and even more so when I realized it was absolutely true. “The speed really surprised me,” I added.
Philly pointed to the TV. “College hockey is fast, but nothing compared to the NHL. Those guys can skate.”
“Hey!” Dex said, slightly offended.
“Oh, you know it’s true. You’re fast, Dex, but come on.”
Dex grimaced but then relented and pulled Philly closer into his body. “You’re not wrong,” he grudgingly said.
“But you’re cuter,” Philly said, burrowing into his side. “Much cuter.”
“Damn straight,” Dex said.
“Okay, that’s it for us. See you guys tomorrow,” Logan said, tugging on my hand.
“Night,” I said, and Dex and Philly both answered with the same, their eyes on the TV and their arms wrapped around each other.
When we reached the top of the stairs, I noticed that half the doors were open.
There were six identical wooden doors spaced evenly down the long hallway, three on each side.
The two middle ones were bathrooms and both were open, as was the last one on the right, which I remembered was Logan’s room.
“I need to stop in here first,” I said, much like I had when I’d come to their first party of the year.
“Take your time,” he said, and continued on to his room, though he seemed reluctant to let go of my hand.
As I took care of business, my thoughts ran to that night five weeks ago. Five weeks was such a short amount of time, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. Both in the new friendships I’d made with Emily, Chloe, and Abby, and in classes and college life.
And definitely in Logan time.
Did grief make time feel like dog years? Because the mere five weeks I’d known Logan felt like a year. We’d learned so much about each other during our weekly group meetings. And the other kids, too. But it was different with Logan. Deeper.
Plus our time together afterward, whether alone or with Connor or Jane and Stick.
And now we were at a crossroads. We both knew it.
Yes, of course, we could just talk for a while and I could go home. Or crash here, but in a “concerned friend” kind of way. And I was absolutely certain that I could make that choice at any point and Logan would be cool with that.
But that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to have him on top of me. Inside of me. All over me.
And I was sure he felt the same way.
The difference was, it felt to me like something was ramping up. That this was a start. And I couldn’t be sure that it was the same for Logan. Was this a beginning for him too, or more like a mission to be completed?
The question was, would I be cool with it if that were the case? Would I take it for what I had said was the goal this year—a fun hookup with no strings with a hot guy, then moving on? Not looking back. Certainly not crashing into his room during a party when he was with another girl.
Because otherwise I risked a lot. Pride. Heartache. A major setback to my mulligan year.
This fuck had better be worth all that.
I entered Logan’s room to find him sprawled on his bed, his shirt off and that glorious chest bared. “Lock the door this time,” he said with a devilish grin on his face, the dimples in his cheeks almost as deep as the one on his chin. I locked the door.
It was going to be worth it.