My throat feels tight. Words are dangerous. Have to keep my mouth shut.
Logan’s being so tender. So sweet. Caring and loving and darling. The perfect partner, the kind of guy every woman would swoon over if I told them how well he treats ...
And I’m fucking furious.
The mattress shifts as he stands. "Are you hungry? I’ll order so food. The room service here is excellent."
"Sure."
The word sounds like the last yodel of a dying cat, but he doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong as he walks away.
Muscles ripple under his tanned skin, and I press my tongue against my teeth, my irritation once again abated by the pure sex the man oozes.
Yeah. Focus on his pretty man-body. Don’t be that girl. You’re not a crazy, clingy, neurotic girlfriend. You’ve never been one before, and you don’t need to start now.
Yes.
Good pep talk.
I’m doing great.
But then my little doom spiral of thoughts returns full force. If he could visit his parents’ house, he could have called. Texted. Anything. A simple "hey, I’m still alive" would have sufficed.
It was all fine when I thought he couldn’t contact . But now I feel a little...
Betrayed is too strong of a word.
Let down, I guess.
Yeah. I feel let down.
I pull the comforter over my body, tucking it tight around my chest. Understanding Nicole and Neurotic Nicole are still battling it out in my head, and until I figure out what I’m feeling or how to respond to it, I should keep all the good bits off display.
It’s not a punishnt. It’s just natural.
No; I’m lying to myself. It’s definitely a punishnt. An R-rated, if you don’t text , you can’t see my boobies level of childish tantrum he’s probably not even going to notice.
"They have an amazing ribeye," Logan calls from the other room. Then his head pops around the doorfra, a lopsided smile quirking his lips. "Or if you prefer seafood, the Chilean sea bass is supposedly their specialty."
Yup. He has no idea.
The casual normalcy of his tone makes sothing inside go snap.
"When exactly did you visit your parents?"
He blinks, then stands fully in the doorway, a nu in hand. "What?"
"Your parents. You said it was a family car. It’s your parents’ car, right?"
His head tilts and his eyebrows tug down as his green eyes stay steady on mine. "Yesterday. Why? What’s wrong?"
"Did you just show up without warning?"
A slight shake of his head. "No. I asked first."
"Ah ha." Triumph can also make your heart bleed a little. "So you had access to a phone? The ability to communicate with the outside world?" My voice sounds eerily calm, even as my heart’s joined Neurotic Nicole, picked up a pitchfork, and started beating at my chest like crazy.
Logan steps forward, but the motion is hesitant. "Nikki, why are you upset?"
"You called your parents. You couldn’t send a single text saying you were still alive? This entire ti, I thought you—"
"Wait." He holds up his hands, eyes wide. "Wait, wait. No, it’s not what you’re thinking."
My jaw juts forward as I cross my arms over my blanket-clothed chest. "Oh?"
His hesitation is gone, and Logan’s grin transforms his entire face as he saunters over to sit beside my legs. The tight coil of anger within reacts to the easy confidence radiating from him, making even more frustrated.
"You know," he says, voice dropping to the husky rumble that usually turns my bones to jelly, "you’re really cute when you’re angry. Your cheeks puff out like a furious little hamster."
He reaches for my face, one finger extended as if to poke my cheek. I smack his hand away.
A hamster. Really?
"You’re supposed to be explaining."
His eyes dance with barely contained laughter. "I’m trying, but you need to stop being so adorable. It’s distracting ."
Sothing snaps inside . I grab the nearest pillow and swing it at his head with all the force my indignation can muster.
"Just. Answer. My. Question!" Each word is punctuated with another blow.
issen vase to the head aside, I’m not a physical kind of person. I don’t just hit the guys I date because I’m angry.
I don’t.
But pillows don’t hurt, and his insufferable smirk is on my very last, teeny tiny, fraying edge of my nerves.
Logan blocks each strike with his forearms, but makes no move to stop . His deep laugh fills the room, a rich sound that only fuels my irritation.
"Stop laughing!" The pillow connects with his shoulder. "This isn’t funny!"
"Nicole, please—" His words dissolve into more laughter as he deflects another hit. "You have to—stop—"
I pause mid-swing, breathing hard as I stare him down, daring him to say one more ridiculous thing.
Pillow fights make for amazing cardio. Duly noted.
Logan leans forward, his mouth hovering near my ear. Hot breath tickles my skin as he whispers, "Your blanket’s slipping."
A cold rush of air confirms his observation. The comforter has indeed drooped dangerously low, exposing the upper curve of my breasts.
I smack him again with the pillow, harder this ti. "You absolute—insufferable—" Words fail as I continue my assault.
His laughter grows louder with each hit. In this mont, I finally understand how won throughout history have been driven to madness by a single man. The combination of attraction, frustration, and pure, unadulterated annoyance creates a cocktail of emotion to defy all logic.
Or sense.
Or, you know... impulse control.
"Would you just—" I swing again, but he catches this one.
"My father was with !" He shouts the words through his laughter, putting my rage on instant halt. "I didn’t call anyone! I swear!"
My pillow freezes mid-air once again. "What?"
"My father," he repeats, face red and breathing hard from laughing, though his eyes have turned serious. "He was with the whole ti."
The pillow droops in my hands, confused and guilty over the sudden assault.
The pillow. Because, you know... it made do it.
Yeah.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it, even as guilt floods my face with the unique heat of sheer mortification. "What do you—he was with you? On the mission?"
Logan takes advantage of my confusion to gently pry the pillow from my grip and toss it across the bed. "Yes. He was with . The entire ti, from day one until we were done."
Wow.
I’d just made a complete fuss over... nothing.
Neurotic Nicole cringes into a corner of my head, and Understanding Nicole takes a shovel to bury her, fifteen feet deep, where she can never co out again.
Ever.
Oh, my God.
I’m never living this down. Logan is not the kind of guy to just forget about the ti I lost my shit over a misunderstanding. After all, he’s kind of dating the person who threw the rejection in his face at every chance I got...
Ah, karma, you evil little bitch.
The cold knot in my stomach begins to unravel, just a little, and I parrot blankly, "There. The whole ti."
"Yeah. Are you feeling better now? Or are you still mad at ?"
He bends over my body, tilting his head so he’s looking at from below, looking so freaking... cute, with his wide eyes and sweet smile. "Am I forgiven yet?"
I clear my throat. "You know... I think the ribeye sounds good. In fact, it’s fantastic. The best choice. You should order it before they run out."
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