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Lights blasts over my clenched eyes. Busted. “Find anything interesting?”
I open a single eyelid to Logan, who’s right in front of me. Both eyes open, I shamefully drag my vision down his chiseled chest until I see his—I slam my eyes closed again. “Nope, I was cold. Thought I would borrow a hoodie. Isn’t that a thing? Girls always stealing their boyfriend’s hoodies? You’re my boyfriend. Well, fake boyfriend, so I figured…hoodie. I can’t find one. Do you wear hoodies?” I. Just. Can’t. Shut. Up.
Logan doesn’t mention my wandering eyes and leans past me, pulling an article of clothing off a hanger.
“Here. This might suffice.” I crank one eye open and see the hoodie he’s holding up for me.
I take it, slowly bringing it to my chest. “Thank you.” My voice is riddled with nerves.
“So, if you got what you’re looking for, I’m just gonna get dressed now.”
“Yep. Sounds good.” I continue to stand there and stare at him.
“Yeah, you’re gonna have to move. You’re in my closet.”
“Yep! Moving. Gonna move.” I hurry out, tripping along the way. It doesn’t help that when I race out of the room, I get a sweet view of his tight butt through the mirror on his dresser and run into the doorframe.
“You okay—?”
“Fine!”
When Logan makes his way out to the living room, I’m fake watching some cooking show, pretending to be completely enthralled. I’m also snuggled in his hoodie, which is actually super soft and smells amazing. I now get why girls steal these.
“You good?” he asks, coming around the couch and taking the seat next to me.
“Yep. Great. Never better.” Please don’t bring up that I saw your impressive package and tight tush. Really nice, tight tush.
“You sure?”
“Can we not?” I turn to him, trying to hide my embarrassment.
He chuckles and throws his hands up. “Got it. Why don’t we go over some basic stuff while we wait for the pizza, cool?”
Sure!
No, I have never seen a penis that big.
Yes, I am curious how that doesn’t tear a girl in half.
No, I would not like to test that out. Also, that’s a lie.
“I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?”
He smiles at my lame question. “Black. What’s yours?”
“Purple. But I like gray a lot. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Don’t have one. What’s yours?”
I scoff. “You don’t have one? How is that even possible?”
He shrugs. “I just don’t watch much TV,” says the guy who has a television the same size as his entire wall. “Where did you grow up?”
I get more comfortable on his couch, tucking my feet underneath me. “I grew up in a small town in Indiana. Got a scholarship to the University of Chicago. Spent my last year at an internship with a small newspaper. After graduating, I applied to every news or magazine outlet hiring, but the only bite I got was Celebrity Dirt. I figured I would take the job until a real opportunity opened up. Three years later, and I’m still waiting.” Three hard years where I’ve busted my tail to not move an inch on the totem pole.
“Why the long face? Thought you loved your job.”
“It’s not that I don’t. It’s just…I never realized the ugliness of it. The scandals. How cutthroat it is to grab a story. You have people you work with, but they’re your competition. Not to mention, this isn’t where I saw myself. I always thought after my internship, I would land a job reporting real news. Work in an environment where we expose real-life issues. Make this city a better place. Instead, I’m working at a gossip magazine, being passed up for promotions by coworkers who chose to sleep with famous sports players for a story instead of getting it the authentic way. That’s just not who I am.” We’re quiet for a moment, then I throw the question back at him. “What about you? Did your high school yearbook have ‘most likely to become a mobster’s henchman’ under your picture?”
He sighs and leans against the couch. “Not quite. I was raised in Ohio. Moved here for a job. It didn’t work out. Vincent found me. And…well, you know, when he finds interest in something, it’s hard to back away. He offered me a job I couldn’t say no to. At first, it was just being a runner. Small-time shit. Seemed harmless. The money kept me going, so I did more. The more trust I earned, the bigger errands he had me doing. Before I knew it, I was one of his main henchmen, as you call it.”
“Wow, real success story.” We both laugh as the doorbell sounds. I’m on alert, but he’s at ease.
“Pizza. Sit tight.” He gets up and answers the door. It’s strange how things have quickly shifted between us. He’s not barking down my throat or giving me his grouchy snarl, and I kind of like it. He has a great smile, only accentuated by his dimples and perfect teeth. “Why are you smiling? Thinking about all the dirty things you’re going to do to the pizza?”
