He’s just Logan.
Sweet, caring, Logan.
My Logan.
Sometimes, he doesn’t make time for that facet of himself, so it’s up to me to remind him that life isn’t just about getting into an Ivy League school. He can have some fun, too. Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the reason why he keeps me at arm’s length. That maybe he considers me a distraction, and that’s why he refuses to touch me. Or kiss me. It’s excruciating being with him and not being able to do everything I want to.
But we have this.
We have movie night.
And so far, it’s been enough—for now at least.
“Want me to take you home?” he rasps roughly, still fiddling with a lock of my hair.
“But I haven’t seen the rest of the movie.”
“You never do,” he jokes.
“Do you want me to go home?” I bite my lower lip, gazing at him from under half-mast eyes, afraid he’ll push me away again.
“No.”
“Then I won’t,” I reply cheerfully, nestling my head into the crook of his neck.
“You sure your dad won’t mind? It’s starting to get late,” he explains, pointing to the screen on his phone and indicating it’s well past my curfew.
“I doubt he’d mind tonight. Dad’s on a date.” My smile widens.
“Really?”
“Yep,” I pop the P at the end excitedly.
“You know, most teenage daughters wouldn’t be so happy to see their dad dating.” He laughs.
“I’m not most daughters.” I shrug, my chin placed on his shoulder just so I can lose myself a little more staring into Logan’s light blue eyes.
“No, you’re not.” He chuckles again, pulling me closer in his embrace so that my head falls to his chest. I feel his heart beating, and just like mine, it’s a little bit erratic. I maul my lip to prevent myself from asking why it’s beating so fast, even if the question is on the tip of my tongue.
“If you fall asleep again, I won’t wake you up. I’ll just crash on the couch downstairs and text your dad you’re sleeping over.”
I’m happy he can’t see the immediate frown that thins my lips with his remark. I really wish he would sleep in bed with me, but every time I’ve slept over in the past, Logan has been a true gentleman at giving me my space.
And I hate it.
I really wish he stopped using kid gloves with me and just be mine already.
I grab his discarded laptop and place it on his stomach, pressing play on another John Hughes’ movie. Unlike the female leads in his old teen flicks, my love life won’t be so easily fixed.
Quaid and Dad are still horsing around with a football in our backyard as I take the spinach cannelloni out of the oven that Dad made earlier in the day. Before the two started their usual bromance outside, Quaid set the table, so all I need to do is make a salad and dinner is done. Once I’ve gotten everything ready, I go outside to call them in, but instead, lean against my kitchen door and just take in the scenery. Both Dad and Quaid are laughing at one of Quaid’s jokes as he tries to take the ball out of my dad’s hand. My father however, isn’t going down without a fight.
“Give it up, old man. You know I’m going to get the ball sooner or later.”
“Come and get it, kid,” Dad taunts.
Both wrestle together until they lose their step, falling to the ground, giggling like schoolgirls. It warms my heart. I’ve never asked my father outright, but I know he would have loved to have a bigger family, not just me. Especially a couple of sons like Quaid to mess around with. Even though he isn’t blood, both of them have formed a bond together as strong as father and son.
“Dinner is getting cold,” I warn with a gentle laugh.
Quaid snaps his head in my direction the minute he hears my voice and throws me one of his beaming smiles. Long gone are the metallic braces that decorated his mouth. In their place is nothing but pearly whites that make most girls swoon whenever he smiles at them. But this particular smile is all mine. He doesn’t give it to anyone else but me.
Quaid helps my dad to his feet, pretending he’s a senior citizen, and Dad slugs him for it.
“Hey, be nice, old man. You know when you get really old, I’m the one who will be picking you up and changing your diapers,” Quaid jokes.
“God help me if that’s true, kid,” my dad goads. “Just take mercy on me and hire a damn nurse. I don’t want you anywhere near this area,” Dad quips back, pointing at his midsection.
“Fine. I’ll get you a hot nurse. One that gives you sponge baths and spoon feeds you.” Quaid cackles, getting another punch in the gut from my father.
“Just go wash up, kid.” My dad rolls his eyes at him as they head my way.
“How about you both go wash up?” I eye my father up and down, pointing to his clothes filled with grass stains. “I’ll put dinner back in the oven until you’re both ready.”
Dad passes by me and kisses me on my temple.
“Sorry, kiddo. I’ll be just five minutes,” he says before rushing out to take a shower and change clothes.
“You too, Quaid,” I order, indicating his clothes look just as filthy.
Quaid smirks at me and waits for my dad to be out of earshot before he traps me against the doorframe. He’s gotten so big over the years that now I have to crane my head all the way back to see his glorious face. He leans down just enough for his mouth to be against my earlobe, his proximity alone leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.
“I thought you liked me dirty?” he says in a mischievous tone.
My skin instantly comes alive with his salacious innuendo, and I lick my lips to put some moisture back onto my parched mouth.
“Go and take a shower, Quaid. You stink,” I lie.
He doesn’t.
He smells like earth, the sun and all man.
He bites my lobe, and my lids close of their own accord.
Unlike Logan, Quaid isn’t afraid of lavishing me with affection. Actually, he’s the complete opposite. He’s all for leaving me hot and bothered. I think he enjoys seeing me in pain.
I push his chest away to gain some needed distance, but Quaid is having none of it.
“Go. Dad will be out any minute,” I warn.
He groans, his erection digging into my belly.
“I think you better start dinner without me. I’m probably going to take longer in the shower.”
I crease my brows together in confusion, and he pulls my hand to cup his hard cock over his sweatpants. No inhibitions whatsoever. That’s Quaid for you. My cheeks flush at his meaning, but my eyes don’t stray away from his forest greens. He leans closer and groans into my ear.
“It’s either beat my dick into submission in the shower, or bend you against the kitchen counter. What do you say, princess? You think we can get in a quickie before your dad uses his shotgun on me? Not the worst way to go out.” I don’t have to see it to feel his flirtatious smile burn into my cheek.
“Just go,” I croak, needy, my palm on his chest.
“Want to join me?”
I furrow my brows, my threat ingrained deep on my face.
“Stop playing and go, Quaid. I mean it,” I tell him more forcefully, this time pushing on his chest as hard as I can so he can give me back some breathing room. With Quaid, it’s hard not to be left breathless.