Page 56 of The Sweet Spot

My heart drops. I’m sure my face does, too. “What?”

“Yeah, apparently she was getting down with his best friend.” He shakes his head, opening the door. “Kellan said things went to shit a couple of days ago. That’s why Logan didn’t show.” He frowns. “Do you know Logan?”

A memory of the moody, blue-eyed boy in the Banana Slugs t-shirt comes to mind, and I nod. “I think so.”

“Shady as fuck.” Dallas shrugs, walking out. “Anyway. Talk soon, cutie. You know where to find me.”

“Bye, Dallas.” I close the door and let out a shaky breath. That was abrupt. And while the conversation itself went about as well as it could have, I can’t help but feel like we might have ruined a good thing.

Then I remind myself that continuing to fool around with someone who only wanted a friends-with-benefits arrangement would’ve eventually hurt me. We’ve always been drama-free, but sometimes I would worry that he’d find someone else, and I’d have to suck it up.

Guess I was the one who found someone else.

Luca

Reaching blindly across the bed, I fumble around the nightstand for my phone.

It’s eleven-oh-six. Bright stripes of sunlight bracket the hastily closed drapes.

There’s a text from Brooke, but I ignore it—I don’t need anything sullying this morning’s good vibes. Instead, I close my eyes again and pull the blankets up a little higher. I never sleep this late, but then, I don’t really go to bed at 4 o’clock anymore, either. After the party ended last night, Kellan, Matt and I wandered down to the Morgans’ dock and finished off another bottle of champagne. It was the perfect end to a great night.

Actually, the perfect ending would have been Wren beneath me, but I rectified that the best I could by beating one out in the shower before bed. Just thinking about that, and her, gives me morning wood all over again. Groaning, I roll onto my side and attempt to think about something else. There’s nothing I can do about it anyway—I’m in the Morgans’ well-appointed guest room.

But now that thoughts of Wren have infiltrated my mind, it’s hard to get rid of them.

The way her ass filled out that dress. The way she smelled, like vanilla and perfume and coconut. The way she looked at me when she thought I didn’t notice, and the way she blushed when she realized that I did.

I love Kellan like a brother, and I would never do anything to jeopardize my friendship with him by stealing his little brother’s girl from underneath his nose. But the truth is, Dallas is still a kid. I know he and Wren are around the same age, but it’s not about that. There’s a gravity to Wren. Depth.

“Listen to you, trying to justify this,” I mumble into my pillow, yawning.

Nah, Dallas is all right. He acted exactly the way I would’ve in a situation like that, although based on what Wren said, they’re not that serious. Maybe that’s why he let her go with me, and why she allowed me to get so close.

And yet, in the end, it doesn’t matter. Wren’s off limits for now. If she makes a clean break from doing whatever the hell they’re doing, we can talk. Until then, I’d do well to focus on my own shit, like the upcoming spring semester and my senior thesis. Continuing the application process for grad school. And figuring out where I’m going to live, because there’s no way I’m rooming with Logan when we get back.

* * *

“I’ll drive,” I offer, holding my hand out for Kellan’s key. “You look a little hungover.”

“How are younothungover?” Scowling, Kellan tosses me the keys and shuts the trunk of his car.

“Water. Lots and lots of water.”

It’s four p.m. The last of the cleanup crew is just pulling out, having transformed the Morgans’ house back into the pristine specimen it once was.

Matt and I say our goodbyes to Kellan’s parents and get in the car, where Matt proceeds to roll up a pillow and fall asleep. Kellan joins us moments later, still waving to his parents, who have their arms around each other as they watch us leave.

Kellan rolls up the window as I turn around in the driveway. “Even after all this time, she gets teary-eyed when I leave.”

“Good thing you’re right down the street,” I say, thinking of how emotional Mãe gets every time I go to Brazil. “You think you’re going to stick around for law school?”

Kellan is majoring in environmental law. He’d always talked about going down south to continue his studies, like UCLA, but lately he’s been thinking about staying in the area.

“She’d love that for sure, but I don’t know.” He adjusts his chair, pushing it back so he can recline. “I’m definitely doing a gap year first, though. I need a break.”

“Don’t blame you,” I murmur. It’s been intense for all of us, but I won’t be doing a gap year. My father would never fund something so frivolous, and I can’t do it on my own. Not at this point.

We’re quiet for a while, listening to some mellow indie band croon about lost love and betrayal. I’m about to broach the subject of moving out when Kellan turns the volume down.

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