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He leans toward me with his elbows on the table. “I’d love to know what’s going through your head, Sunshine. Your face is a kaleidoscope of emotions.”
I giggle which is ridiculous because I’ve never been a giggler. Then rather than confess the fantasies flitting through my head, I go back to my earlier thoughts about the benefits of the paparazzi.
Logan grimaces. “There has to be an easier solution. I hate having cameras shoved in my face when I’m going about my business.” His words remind me of some of the pictures I’ve seen of him on social media in recent years. Always with a stunning woman, though I’ve noticed, never the same one. Not for at least the last six months anyway.
“And would that be when you’re out on the town with one of your beautiful women clinging to your arm?” I don’t know why I’ve chosen this moment to ask if he’s dating, but I guess I just did. I’ve been his roommate for four weeks now and still have no idea. Suddenly it feels like an important missing piece of information.
A grin stretches his mouth wider, and the dimple becomes even more pronounced. “Are you asking if I have a girlfriend?”
I shrug in a way that I hope looks casual and hides my eagerness to hear his response.
“You want the honest answer?” he asks while giving me one of his penetrating stares.
“Of course.” But before he can continue, the waiter arrives with our meals. He places them before us, offers us the pepper grinder, grated parmesan cheese, and then tops up our glasses of wine. I try not to look eager for the waiter to disappear again.
But as soon as he turns to go, I lean in. “Go on,” I encourage.
He leans in too. “Well … there is one gorgeous supermodel I wouldn’t mind clinging to my arm.” He ends his declaration with a wink. My heart skips a beat. His eyes sparkle in the candlelight, but it may just be the reflection on his contacts.
I take a sip of wine, then flick my hair off my face in a classic flirtatious way. “Really. Do I know her?” I ask, enjoying our lighthearted game.
Laughter spills from his lips. “Don’t be coy. You know I mean you.” I plonk my wine glass back onto the table, worried I’ll spill it if I don’t put it down.
With my most seductive smile, the one that all the fashion photographers love, I respond, “It’s only taken you fourteen years to work that out.”
One dark eyebrow rises. “You mean fourteen days … not fourteen years.” His voice trails off.
“Oh, Logan. And you’re meant to be the brilliant one. It’s been nearly fourteen years since your sixteenth birthday. When we were in that hallway, and I thought you’d finally realized I had a massive crush on you.”
Both his brows have risen now. “But you pushed me away. A pretty good reason for me to think you weren’t interested.”
I shake my head. “Katie was sick upstairs from too much vodka, and we were trying to keep the fact hidden from your parents and you. She needed a bottle of water, and I was on a mission to get it. Why do you think we’re all now tequila drinkers?” I shudder at the memory of my first experience with alcohol. I’ve not touched vodka since.
He laughs. “Huh! Too much vodka … I thought so. You girls have always been so tight-lipped about that night.”
“Just so you know, I did go looking for you about an hour later. But you were too busy with your tongue down some girl’s throat.”
He looks down into his glass of wine. Briefly, he reminds me of the teenage boy he once was. “Sorry. I might not have handled your rejection too well. We were young and foolish.”
I tilt my head from side to side. It was all so long ago. “And here we are … putting the past behind us.”
If only the past would stay behind me. And I no longer mean our past. A chill runs down my spine. Regardless of how much I’m enjoying tonight with Logan, it seems like I’m unable to forget recent events.
My enjoyment might actually be the very reason I can’t forget the past. How can I sit opposite Logan knowing I’ve lied to him?
Instinctively, he seems to sense my mood change and reaches across the table to cover my hand. His kindness in the face of my deception makes me want to weep. I try to pull myself together and get back to my earlier happiness. But that’s the thing about secrets, they never completely let you forget them.
Warmth seeps from his hand to mine, pumping heat back into my suddenly chilled body. “How did you know I needed that?” I whisper.
“The light goes out in your eyes when you’re sad,” he replies simply. Releasing my hand, he says, “Are you ready to go?”
I nod and there’s something in his warm brown eyes that causes a seismic shift inside me.
Yes, I’m ready. Ready to finally tell him the truth.
Chapter fifteen
Allie
