Page 2 of You Were Mine

“No.”

Uh huh. Riiight. Logan is one of those people whoalwayshas to be in a romantic relationship, and when not, he gets clingy. Look up clingy in aDictionary…you’ll see his picture.

I’m the polar opposite, but I’d be lying if I said the nude model wasn’t making me feel, well,something. For a split second, I consider asking him out, but that’s unprofessional. He’d likely refuse anyway. I’m not bad looking, but I’m also not some god-like creature with the confidence to pose nude before an entire class of art students.

And Iknowhim from somewhere. But where? That’s really bothering me.

When the class ends, I pack up my paints and leave my best effort drying on the easel, along with my classmates. The model leaves to get dressed. Logan has already packed up his supplies and waits impatiently, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other, for me.

“IswearI know him from somewhere,” I say.

“The model?”

I nod.

“He’s not hideous,” Logan replies slyly.

Wow. Yeah, if “not hideous”can be defined as “looks like a god come to Earth”.

“Maybe you should catch him on the way out,” Logan adds.

“Yeah, riiight. He’s so far out of my league, I’m sitting in the bleachers.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, you’re always welcome to be the eternal bachelor,” Logan says, “sitting around on park benches. Talking about non-existent glory days. Like theone timeyoualmostasked someone out.”

I roll my eyes and throw my backpack onto one shoulder. “I’ve had dates before, you ass.”

“Sure, you have,” Logan replies cheerily. “There was that one guy—what, three years ago, four?”

I’m honestly not sure how long ago I dated “that one guy”. His name was Chance, and his entire life revolved around his three cats and seeing how many puns he could make with his own name. He wasn’t abadguy; we just never really hit it off.

“You’re paying too much attention to my dating life,” I say, as we head down the hall and back to Logan’s car.

My car is, unfortunately, at the shop after some woman rear-ended me at a stoplight. There’s no word yet whether the car is totaled. I’m hoping for the best, but it doesn’t look good. It’s tough to expect a full repair after a “jaws of life” extraction. I realize, of course, I should be grateful no one was hurt aside from a bit of whiplash. I am. It’s just nice to have a working car, though.

“I’m just trying to look after your well-being,” Logan says. “It’s in the ‘best friend with benefits’ job description.”

I’m not sure him being my “best friend with benefits” is something I should brag about; at the moment his primary “benefit” is an operable vehicle. Hell, even if it’s just plain “best friend”, he wins…by default.

“Well, asyourfriend, maybe you need to slow down with that train wreck you refer to as a love life. At the rate you’re going, you’re going to blow through every gay man in Bluehaven. The day’s gonna come when you walk into a gay bar, and it’ll be full of nothing but your exes.”

Considering the amount of LGBT+ organizations Logan’s involved in, I’m legitimately astonished this hasn’t already happened, for which I’mglad;I want video ofthatmomentousoccasion.

“I guess if that happens, I’ll just have to assume a new identity,” Logan says. “I’ll tell everyone that I’m my cousin. No! Better! I’ll tell them I’m you!”

“Then who am I, smartass?”

I roll my eyes. With Logan’s inability to keep a secret, that new identity wouldn’t last more than ten minutes.

“Wow, identity theft?” I ask. “Great solution. No way that could go wrong. Do me a favor and pay off my student loans while you’re me.”

To be fair, Logan comes from money; billions, in fact. He could pay off my student loans with his chump change.

“OrI could make the three-hour drive to NYC,” Logan says. “I do love that place.”

“Three hoursboth waysto get laid? Or are you going to buy a plane ticket?”

Logan heaves a melodramatic sigh. “True love has no bounds,” he says.

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