Page 30 of The Write Off

“It’s not a date,” I insist stubbornly. “He had an extra ticket to a hockey game and invited me to join him. He must have remembered that I said I liked hockey a few weeks ago. He probably just wanted someone to go with because he doesn’t have any friends because no one likes him.”

There. Perfectly reasonable explanation.

“No one, eh?”

Stop reading my mind, you tiny freckled sorceress. Fine. I like him. To say that Logan has grown on me over the last month would be an understatement. His blunt honesty and complete lack of sugar coating is a welcome change from all the people in my life who tell me what they think I want to hear.

He’s also smart, thoughtful, and occasionally very funny, though usually not on purpose. Did I mention that he’s unfairly hot? If the man were a rollercoaster, I would wait in a three-hour line to ride him.

I wonder, and not for the first time, what he’d be like in bed. Would he approach it like work? Seriously and methodically? Or would that calm state of control crumble, unleashing an inner beast I haven’t met.

Yet.

Do I want to meet that Logan? I think I do. But the bigger question at hand is does that Logan want to meet me?

I’m not obtuse; I know that I’m a lot. Logan seems aware of it too, but unlike everyone else, I don’t feel like he handles me any differently because of it. When I’m with him, I don’t feel like he wants me to be anything other than myself.

Which is nice since I have zero fucking desire to change myself for him or anyone else.

“Enjoy yourself tonight.” Betty sits down on the bed, watching me roll up the sleeves on this gigantic jersey. “Maybe it’s a date and maybe it’s not. Regardless, just be yourself and have fun.”

“It’s not a date, Betts. Logan’s got too good of a head on his shoulders to pursue the likes of me.” A great head, actually. With a perfect face and glorious hair to match.

“Hey. Don’t talk about my best friend like that.”

Betty St. Claire is loyal to a fault. This girl has seen me through every high and low on this wild adventure called life and she’s never once asked to be let off. She’s more than my cheerleader, she’s my entire fucking marching band.

“Do you still want to do something this weekend?” I have a shift at Dive on Friday night, but we made tentative plans to hang out on Saturday.

“Shoot, I forgot to text you. My dad and Colleen are visiting this weekend. He got tickets for us to go see Come From Away at the Opera House. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly: You haven’t seen them since Christmas. It’s great that they’re coming to visit.” I’ve always liked Betty’s dad and I’m glad that she has him in her life. He and his fiancée live in Rhode Island where they both work at a University. Her parents divorced when we were nineteen and she recently severed ties with her toxic mother. “What about next weekend? Are we still having a girls night with Maggie?” I’ve seen them both briefly recently for coffee dates, but it’s been a couple of months since the three of us got together to drink wine and solve the problems of the universe.

“Definitely!” She brightens. “We’re going to go to Maggie and Callum’s next Friday night. I think the boys are going to join us. Is that okay?”

No.

“Of course.” I feel bad lying, but what else am I supposed to say? I love my brother, and Callum is a gem of a human with a heart as big as his net worth, and that’s staggering. But I was looking forward to some much needed estrogen therapy. I always have fun with the whole gang, but I also always feel like the superfluous fifth wheel. “I’d better get going. I don’t want to be late for my non-date.”

Betty is walking me to the door just as Josh gets home from work.

“Hey,” he says, dropping his duffle bag on the floor. He immediately notices what I’m wearing. “You’re stealing my jersey?”

“I’m borrowing it.”

“Borrowing implies I gave you permission to take it.” He doesn’t care about the jersey, he’s just ribbing me because it’s his duty and his right as the oldest.

“Your better half gave me permission. What’s yours is hers and what’s hers is mine, therefore what’s yours is mine.”

“Thank you for clearing that up for me, Crone.” He pats me on the head good-naturedly on his way to give Betty a quick kiss. “Why exactly are you borrowing my jersey?”

I grin at him. “I’ve been called up to the big leagues. The Bruins are down a forward, so they called me. It’s so last minute, they don’t have a jersey made for me yet, but I told them not to worry, I know a guy. It’s just for tonight. I’m sure they’ll have a Pine jersey made by the next game.”

“Wow,” he says with an eye roll so dramatic it looks painful. “You are particularly obnoxious tonight, Rill.”

“She’s just nervous,” Betty says, wrapping me in one of her unsolicited hugs. She’s surprisingly strong for someone so tiny.

“I’m not nervous.” I’m on edge which is completely different from being nervous. I wiggle out of her embrace. “I’m going to the hockey game tonight with Logan.”

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