Chapter Twenty-Six – Wren
Two weeks until fall semester starts. It’s crazy how much has changed, how much will change, and yet, at the same time, how much everything is staying the same.
This fall semester isn’t going to start the same as last year’s: I’m not in search of a new roomie at the very last minute after finding my long-term boyfriend cheating on me with my ex-best friend.
Nope. But I am having a new roomie all the same.
Now that I’m back from summer break, it’s time to move all of my stuff into Logan’s place. Yep, he and I are going to be living together. It’s a crazy thing to think about.
I left a lot of my stuff in my room over the summer.
I really only took my clothes and my laptop and tablet home, so there’s a surprising amount of stuff that needs moved.
Logan is up for the challenge, but Sloane and Elias help, too.
Logan already emptied out one of the rooms in his house, a room that will be mine.
I doubt I’ll need my own bed, but it’s better to have it just in case.
Besides, a quiet place to study, away from Logan’s needy hands, is definitely something that’ll come in handy, especially during finals week.
The guys are busy bringing in the heavier stuff, the bigger furniture for my room, while Sloane and I take a little break outside.
We sit stand in the shade of the garage near the trunk of the car, sipping on some lemonade.
Sloane must’ve gotten her long hair cut short recently; it has that new, just-cut look, and now hangs near her shoulders.
It’s a stern, fierce cut, all hard angles, but it fits.
“If you would’ve asked me last year if you’d be moving in with this guy, I would’ve laughed so hard,” she mutters.
“Then again, if you would’ve asked me last summer if I would invite a girl I never met to live with me, I would’ve laughed then, too.
” She sighs. “It’s weird. I think I’m actually going to miss you. ”
The way she says it makes it more than clear she’s surprised by that fact more than anything else, and I can’t help but laugh.
A random person might’ve heard that and taken offense, but that’s just Sloane for you, and if there’s one person other than Logan and Reese I’ve come to know the past year, it’s her.
“I hear you,” I say, pausing when the late summer breeze blows around us. I take a small sip from the glass. Very tart lemonade, but that’s the best kind, if you ask me. “This isn’t where I thought I’d be junior year, that’s for sure.”
“Satisfied with your new choice of major?”
It takes me only a second to nod and say, “Yes.” I went ahead with psychology. I don’t know yet how far I want to take things, but the mind is a fascinating thing—something both of my boyfriends have taught me the past seven months.
“Good.” Sloane runs a hand through her now-short hair. “You never told me how it went, when you introduced Logan and Reese to your parents.”
I think back to that particular day. It was, in a single word, awkward. Awkward because I didn’t exactly warn my parents about the whole two boyfriends thing until they both strolled through the door. I kind of… jumped the truth on them. Didn’t want to hear any lectures beforehand.
But, in the end, my parents were supportive. Confused, a little concerned, but still supportive.
“It was as good as it could’ve been,” I say, taking another sip from my glass. “They don’t really understand it, but we didn’t fight about it or anything after they left.” My face flushes when I recall the conversation my parents had with me after they were gone for the night.
We’re being careful, right? And there’s only one thing parents mean when they ask about their children being careful when it comes to the opposite sex: condoms. Birth control. Being careful as to not accidentally get pregnant.
Yeah, I could’ve lived my entire life without having that conversation. Like, please, I’m in college. I know what sex entails. I’m not a kid.
“See?” she asks. “You were worried about nothing. You’re lucky you have such understanding parents. Sometimes I wonder if I would’ve had normal parents, if I would’ve turned out differently.”
I’ve learned when she makes comments like that, it’s best to just let them be and not ask for any more details.
Elias and Logan come into view, grabbing the next thing out of the trunk of the SUV: my desk, and as they pull it out—thank goodness the back row of seats are able to lay flat, so we didn’t have to disassemble the darn thing—Sloane orders, “Oh, come on! Put your back into it.”
The look Elias gives her is a deadly one, and it makes her grin.
I try to hide my chuckle. They go around and around sometimes, but I think they enjoy getting on each other’s nerves every chance they get.
Their relationship isn’t exactly something I’d call a green flag, but then again, who am I to talk? Look at the two guys I’m with.
We finish our lemonade, and then we decide we should get back to helping the guys out. A few more trips into the house, not to mention another round at Sloane’s place to finish up my room, and it’s officially done. I’m moved in with Logan.
There were a few things I had to take care of before the actual move—such as the cameras Reese hid everywhere.
I told him I had no problems with cameras in my room at Logan’s house, but everywhere else should be off-limits.
I got him to take the cameras out of Sloane’s house months ago, save for the ones in my room—and those ones he grabbed the last time he was over.
Didn’t want Sloane stumbling across them and flipping out.
After thanking Sloane and Elias for helping, they leave, and Logan and I get right to unpacking and setting up my room. Reese is busy getting everything ready for the fall semester; they loaded him with a few more classes to teach, so he’s got a bit more work on his plate this time.
We set up the bed first, sheets and all, and, no surprise, we take a little break. Logan and I lay side by side with each other. I’m curled against his thick, muscular frame, while he holds me and stares at the ceiling.
“I can’t believe you’re finally moving in,” he whispers.
“I know. Who knew when we met at the bookstore last year we’d end up here?”
“Not me,” he says, and then his arms tighten around me. “I still blame that look you gave me at the club for all of this.”
I smile to myself. He’s tried explaining ‘the look’ to me before, and every time I just don’t get it. It’s not like I have a sultry, come hither look that I’ve practiced on countless unsuspecting guys before. That’s not me. This look he always brings up I think is a load of crap.
But, in a way, it’s also kind of sweet, like some part of him knew, even back then, we’d wind up here.
Logan goes on, “I got a message today from my brother. He wants to swing by sometime next week with the guys.”
I hear the trepidation in his voice. Even after all this time, he hasn’t really seen or spoken to the others.
His brother, yes, but the other ex-bandmates?
Not so much. There was this whole thing where someone tried to frame him for kidnapping Angel, and it was such a mess that when it was over, Logan just wanted to walk away—so he did.
Angling my head up so I can see his face, I ask, “Is that something you’re ready for? Could always postpone it. I’m sure your brother and the others would understand.” At the same time, I totally get wanting to rip the bandage off as quickly as possible, too. It’s been a long time, too long.
It takes him a few moments to reply, “I think… I think I’m ready. Might as well. Besides, I don’t think they really believe you moved in with me. My brother always says they think he’s lying when he tells them what’s going on with us.”
A gentle smile tugs at my lips. With the kind of person Logan used to be, that’s not too far-fetched.
Those guys knew Logan for years before I did.
They were with him during the ride up to the top of the rollercoaster, and they were there when that same rollercoaster went down.
They saw the good and the bad, and unfortunately for him, after a while it turned into mostly bad.
“Whatever you want to do,” I say.
“I could think of a few things we could do now, break this bed in.” As he says it, he rolls on top of me and pins me down, and I can’t help but giggle. I don’t know if we’ll ever get out of the handsy, frisky part of our relationship, and I’m more than fine with that.
“Logan,” I whine as he nuzzles into my neck. “Shouldn’t we finish unpacking?” If we get distracted, we might never finish. I mean, there’s still two weeks until fall semester starts, but if I know Logan, he’ll distract me more often than not.
Hence why I needed my own room here.
A low, rumbly sound leaves his chest, and he murmurs against the nape of my neck, “We can finish later. Right now, I’m ready to dive into you.” He nips an earlobe, and I shiver and moan softly.
Who am I to deny him? My willpower when it comes to Logan is next to nothing.