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Taxes.
The national debt.
The melting polar ice caps.
My mind obediently begins to conjure images of spreadsheets, news headlines, polar bears on tiny ice floes.
But with every new image, Logan somehow sneaks back in. Logan, the CPA, explaining tax deductions. Logan, the news anchor, discussing the national debt. Logan, the wildlife conservationist, saving the polar bears.
This is hopeless.
I am hopeless.
I take another gulp of my drink, hoping the buzz will drown out the insanity in my mind. But even as I do, I can't help but glance at Logan from the corner of my eye, and my thoughts veer off into dangerous territories yet again.
Why can't I get him out of my head?
It's like he's... stuck.
Another wicked thought crosses my mind.
I bet he would be strong enough to pin me up against the wall.
Oh no, Bailey.
Don't you dare go there.
But it's too late, the thought has already formed.
Bailey, you're losing it.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thoughts of him, but it's like trying to rinse out a stubborn stain. The more I scrub, the more it spreads.
This is going to be a long night.
The comedian keeps going, each joke better than the last. Finally, I drown out my thoughts and my attention is drawn back to the stage as the room erupts into laughter once again. I crack a smile, getting back into the show.
"Who here is dating someone they work with?" the comedian asks, scanning the crowd.
You've gotta be fucking kidding me.
I JUST managed to stop my thoughts... and this joke comes up?
The fucking irony.
The room fills with more laughter and a few guilty hands go up. My eyes instinctively glance over at Logan. He's laughing too, more freely than I've ever seen before. His whole face lights up, and his brown eyes crinkle at the corners.
God, he's even more attractive when he's laughing.
The comedian continues with his set. "Now, let me tell you something about dating your co-workers," he begins. "At first, it seems fun – exciting, even – but when the relationship inevitably doesn't work out, you can't use the excuse "I need space" without quitting your job!" The crowd erupts into laughter, and I can't help but chuckle. I glance at Logan and his eyes meet mine. For a moment, I let my gaze hold his, a silent communication that this is exactly why we can't date.
See, Logan? This is the mess I'm trying not to get into.
Besides, you're an asshole.
The joke feels like an omen—an affirmation that I'm right about not wanting to date him. I need to stick to my guns, no matter how damn charming he is or how intoxicating his scent is.
Dating Logan would be like inviting chaos and disruption into my life, and I've had quite enough of that, thank you very much.
