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Or give up a kidney.
It’s not like this is some huge favor. I mean, how hard can it be to pretend we’re still together for just one night?
For starters, it’ll stop people from looking at us like we’ve failed in the love department.
I mean, no ring, no babies.
I don’t even have a successful career to fall back on. At least, Logan can say he’s a big shot NFL player, maybe even declare himself a bachelor by choice.
But me?
I need this. I need him. Just for one night. And after everything, he owes me one.
Is it too much to ask him to keep up the façade with me?
“Josie, we’re not in high school anymore.” Logan’s frank words strike me like a dart.
“I know that.”
His eyes narrow on me. “Why would we parade around pretending to be together? It’s childish.”
Ouch.
I know he’s right, but his bluntness hurts. I forgot just how straight-talking he is.
Whenever I asked him if my butt looked big, he never held back.
He also told me if I was reading too much into things, like when I would talk to him about Shelly giving me strange looks during science lab. Or when Mr. Davison gave me an A- in art and I obsessed over why.
Logan was always the person who I could rely on to be honest with me. It’s one of the reasons I love him.
Loved him. Past tense.
I don’t still love him… Right?
I grind my teeth under his stare, but it finally softens and turns into a look of pity. So much worse than disapproval. I force a laugh, wondering if I can convince him it was a joke.
“Forget it,” I say, waving a hand in the air as though it could bat the idea away. “It’s a dumb idea.”
He doesn’t argue. Not even to be polite.
Now an awkwardness lands in the space between us and I’m torn between making an excuse to leave and getting as far away as possible, or changing the topic just so I can talk to him a little longer.
There’s something warm and familiar about being in his presence. Even if I’ve done nothing but make a fool of myself. I can’t quite bring myself to leave.
I nod to the big house behind him. “Are you visiting your parents?”
Logan’s face sours and his body reacts in the most unusual way. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and rounds his shoulders. Even his thick brows knit together.
What did I do?
This time, though, he’s not letting me in on what’s going on inside his head.
“Sorry, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got somewhere to be.”
He turns away, but not before I catch a glimpse of a tear in the crease of his left eye. After a few steps, he turns back. “It’s good to see you again, Josie.”
I lift a palm, rooted in the street and wondering what on Earth just happened.
