Page 41 of When You Left Me Speechless

“Okay, hold tight. I’ll be there soon to give you a jump.” He hangs up.

LOGAN

By the timeI pull in, the rain is coming down harder, and the thunder and lightning are close. I think someone told meonce not to jump a car in the middle of a thunderstorm, and that’s a good enough reason for me to try to spend some more time with her. Pulling into the spot next to her parked car, I dial her number and place my phone to my ear.

“Hey. I’m going to need you to get your stuff and come climb in my truck. I can’t jump it until the weather calms down. It’s not safe.”

“No way. I’ll just wait it out from here. Thanks. If you can’t stay, then don’t worry about it. Someone is bound to call me back soon,” she immediately argues, which doesn’t surprise me.

“Come on, let's get some food. Let the storm die down, and I promise I will bring you back and jump your car as soon as it is safe.”

“But what if someone sees us and thinks we are,” she pauses, “you know, together?” There is a tone to her voice that sounds like she would rather die than be caught with me. I try not to let it bother me. The line is quiet for a minute while I form my response. I try to play it cool and not let her know I wish we could, in fact, be together.

“Easy, we will tell them the truth. That I was helping out a friend who was stranded in the rain.” A large bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, followed by a large clash of thunder. I hear her let out a little scream, and then she grabs her bag and gets out of her car.

The rain soaks through her white T-shirt as she runs around both of our cars to the passenger door of my truck. My eyes drift to her perfect tits. Her lace bra is now visible through the soaked fabric. I feel my dick strain against my jeans at the thought of them. I quickly try to take my mind off of her to calm myself. I’m finally going to get to spend some time with her. The last thing I need is for her to notice I’m hard. She’s already freaking out about hanging out.

She opens the door and jumps up into my passenger seat. She’s soaked and laughing. “I am starving,” she says. So am I,so I begin to drive toward the diner a few blocks from the school. She is quiet on the drive, looking out the window, and only looks in my direction when she asks, “Do you mind if I turn it up a bit? I love this song.”

I nod my head, still trying to calm my dick and don’t look directly at her. She bends forward, turns up the radio so some Taylor Swift song blares through my speakers, and then returns to look out her window.

I can see her swaying back and forth to the music out of the corner of my eye. I don’t say anything either. I’m too busy trying to think about how I’m going to keep from staring at her tits while I eat my dinner. I know I need to do something, or my cock is going to give me away.

CHAPTER 27: TWO STRAWS?

POPPY

Logan reaches into the back of his truck and grabs a hoodie. “Here, put this on,” he says. I am cold, and my T-shirt is soaked, but the last time I borrowed a guy’s hoodie, it was Beau, and we were dating. Logan and I are definitely not dating.

“I can practically see your tits through your shirt. Put the hoodie on.” His boldness shocks me. My cheeks blush, and I take the hoodie. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you look sexy as hell with your shirt soaked like that, but I don’t want every other man in this restaurant staring at you as we walk to our table.”

“Why would you care if other men look at me? We are barely friends.” My cheeks are hot. I shouldn’t ask the question, but I do.

“Because I’m not going to let you be ogled by a bunch of men in this restaurant. Plus, you look like you're freezing. Please put the hoodie on, and let’s get some food.”

I try not to think too hard about what he just said. “Okay, but only because I’m cold.” He laughs and shakes his head. I pull the dark gray hoodie over my head and am immediatelysurrounded by the scent of his cologne. We get out of the truck and run through the rain to the door of the diner.

To my relief, we are the only customers, but I keep his hoodie on anyway. A waitress wearing a poodle skirt and a name tag that reads “Judy” walks us to a booth, and we slide in on either side. His hoodie is worn and comfortable. I never want to give it back. “Thanks for the hoodie,” I say, “I am much warmer.”

He smiles and peers at me over his glasses. “Glad I could help.”

The diner looks like a 1950s cliche. The seats are wrapped with pink, shiny leather, and old records cover the walls. A big, multicolored jukebox sits in the corner. We settle in and look over the menu. Judy returns. She smells like she disappeared to smoke a cigarette while we decided on what to order.

“What can I get y’all?” she asks.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries. No mayo and no onions.”

She jots it down on a pad of paper. Her gaze shifts to Logan.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger with tater tots and a chocolate milkshake.”

She writes it down. “Two straws?” she asks, looking back and forth between the two of us.

“No,” I practically shriek. I try to compose myself but fumble over my words. “I mean, um, no. No, thank you. I’ll have a strawberry shake. Thank you.”

“Suit yourself, hun.” She flips her notepad closed and walks away.

“What? You don’t want to share with me?” he asks. There is a playful tone to his voice.

---