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Rachel's mouth drops open, her reaction mirroring my own when I'd received the news.
But before she can voice her excitement, I raise a hand. "Wait, there's more. Guess who I'm supposed to be training?"
Rachel squints at me. "Don't tell me it's..." She trails off, her eyes widening in realization.
"Logan Atwood,” I confirm, my voice a mix of frustration and amusement. "Yes,thatLogan."
For a moment, Rachel is silent before breaking into nervous giggles. "Well, if there's anyone who can whip that playboy into shape, it’s you, Bailey."
"Rachel, it's not funny," I complain, crossing my arms over my chest. "Seriously, it's not. That guy is such a... He's just such a... douche bag," I finally blurt out. "I can't stand him," I continue, my voice full of irritation. "His smug face, his arrogant attitude...I swear, if I have to spend one more minute with him, I might just lose it. And now I have totrainhim? This is a nightmare," I finish, throwing my hands up as Rachel chuckles, amused by my predicament.
"But admit it, he's hot." She winks at me, her mischievous grin softening the blow of her words.
I roll my eyes.
"Rachel, a six-pack doesn't cover up a personality flaw... or ten."
"Come on, Bayles," she urges. "Logan Atwood is a total smoke show. I mean, those beautiful brown eyes, those chiseled cheekbones… he’s like… some kind of Greek god. And don't even get me started on that body of his... I swear it's like he was carved out of marble. He's a work of art." She sighs dreamily. "God, Bailey, if you won't train him, I will."
I sit there, stunned at her sudden outburst, and more so, by the accuracy of her description. I open my mouth to protest but surprisingly, no words come out.
A hot flush spreads across my face.
"Can we stop talking about his... his... everything?" I stutter, feeling myself getting flustered. "He's just... He's just Logan. A total jerk. Nothing more."
Rachel's mouth drops and her hand freezes mid-air.
"Oh my god, Bailey..." she whispers, her eyes wide with disbelief as she glances over my shoulder. I turn, following her gaze, and my heart sinks.
Logan walks in, his arm draped over the shoulders of a woman who could be an actress. My heart skips a beat, and I snap back around, trying to make myself invisible.
"Too late," Rachel mutters under her breath. "He sees us."
"Fuck. Fuck... Fuck. Fuck... Rach. What do we do?"
Footsteps approach and before I can protest, there's a familiar voice behind me.
"Bailey," Logan greets me, a devilish grin playing on his lips. “Long time, no see.”
I cross my arms over my chest, fixing him with a glare. "Logan," I snap back. "What brings you to this part of town? This seems... out of your element."
"I could ask you the same thing, Thompson," he replies, his gaze never leaving mine.
I attempt a tight smile to disguise my discomfort. "I happen to enjoy places that aren't overrun by overgrown frat boys."
Logan throws his head back and laughs. “Well,” he leans in close, his breath hot against my cheek. “Aren't you justsomature?”
“Bite me,” I respond without hesitation.
“Only if you ask nicely,” he teases, a playful glint in his expression.
I roll my eyes. “I’ll pass, thanks."
"Suit yourself." He leads the stunning woman towards their booth on the other side of the lounge. My attention follows them to their table before returning to Rachel with wide-eyes.
"Did that just happen?" she whispers beside me.
I nod. "Welcome to my life."
