Logan’s text that night was short and to the point. “Need help with English. Come over.”
I should have said no. Should have ignored it, even. I had spent the last two days doing everything possible to avoid him or the memory of that kiss. But Logan wasn’t the kind of guy to let things go.
When I knocked on his door, I told myself this was purely about homework. Just helping a friend. But part of me wanted to see him, wanted to find out if I was imagining the way his eyes lingered on me in class, or if the kiss at the party had meant as much to him as it had to me.
“Hey,” he said, his dark eyes scanning me in a way that made my skin feel too tight. “You came.”
“Yeah, well…” I cleared my throat, stepping inside to avoid the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t want you to fail.”
He smirked, closing the door behind me. “Alright, English genius. Save me.”
***
Logan’s room was messy, comfortable, and full of his energy. A guitar leaned against the wall, a stack of schoolbooks sat neglected on his desk, and his bed—the place my eyes kept betraying me by drifting toward—was unmade.
I sat down at his desk, flipping open the notebook he handed me, but I could feel him behind me, too close, his presence as overwhelming as ever. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was watching me, and it was impossible to focus.
“Logan, can you not hover?” I muttered, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.
“Am I making you nervous?”
I turned to glare at him, but he was grinning.
“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll give you some space.”
He moved to the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him. But his eyes never left me, dark and unreadable, like he was daring me to look back.
The air in the room was heavy, and every breath felt like a betrayal. I tried to focus on the words in front of me, but his presence was magnetic, pulling my thoughts away from the paper and back to the way his lips had felt against mine.
“You’re not even reading, are you?” Logan’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“I’m trying,” I snapped, slamming the notebook shut.
“Liar,” he said, his smirk widening.
I stood abruptly, needing space, needing air. “You don’t actually want to study. This was just an excuse to—”
“To what?” he asked, sitting forward, his expression shifting into something darker, something that made my breath hitch.
“To mess with me,” I finished weakly.
Logan stood up so quickly I barely had time to step back before his hands were on my waist, pulling me close. His voice low and rough. “Mess with you? Is that what you think this is?”
My heart stopped. His body was so close, his scent wrapping around me, and every nerve in my body was screaming at me to either push him away or pull him closer.
“Logan, don’t—”
“Don’t what?” he asked, his lips so close to my ear that his breath sent shivers down my neck.
I tried to step back, but his grip held firm.
“This isn’t—”
“—what you want?” he finished for me.”
I opened my mouth to agree, but the words caught in my throat. His hands were on my waist, firm and unyielding, holding me in place like he was daring me to move. I could feel the heat of his body through my jeans, every muscle tense.
“You can’t keep running,” he murmured, his eyes locked on mine. “Not from me.”
My pulse thundered as his gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there long enough that I felt dizzy. I knew I should move, should stop this before it went too far, but I couldn’t. Not when his hands were sliding up my sides, his touch setting every nerve in my body on fire.
“Logan…” I whispered, but it came out more like a plea than a protest.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, his voice rough. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”
I hated him for saying it because we both knew the truth. I couldn’t say it. I didn’t want him to stop.
And then he kissed me.