Page 83 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
When I opened my eyes, I found a red slushy between me and the fence. I traced the arm up to find Logan holding it. “I hope you like cherry. It was either that or cola.”
I took it gratefully. “Not a fan of cola?”
“Not really.” Logan suddenly looked alarmed. “Why? Are you? Because I can go back and get another?—”
I pushed onto my tip-toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw, my movement sudden and striking. “Cherry’s good,” I replied nonchalantly, turning back to the field so he couldn’t see my smirk.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him press a hand to the spot I’d kissed. “Sneak attacks aren’t nice,” Logan grumbled, and I bit down on the plastic straw.
He came up behind me and stretched his arms out on either side, caging me in against the fence. His body was a solid presence at my back, close but not quite touching. Not really. I wanted to lean into him, but instead took a long draw of the slushy, letting it freeze my brain.
The players came back out onto the field as their halftime timer counted down. It ended with a blare of the buzzer.
“Were you like that at that age?” I asked Logan, eyes on the boy on the field. Curtis once again had been pitted up against a larger boy from Chesterville, his formall wrong. “All big dreams and no clue what you’re doing?”
Logan drew in a breath, and his chest brushed against my back. “Weren’t we all?”
I waited, but he didn’t go on. I tried to imagine what a seventh grade Logan Castle might’ve looked like. Was he a kid who got his growth spurt early? Late? Was he hyper? Shy? I laughed a little under my breath at that last one—I couldn’t imagine Loganshy. Nervous sometimes, yes, but notshy. “Were you a troublemaker or a rule-follower?”
“Depends on who you ask.” He gripped the chain-link tighter, flexing his forearms. “What about you? You don’t strike me as the rebellious type.”
I looked over my shoulder, raising my eyebrows.
He immediately grinned. “Aside from your love life.”
I turned back toward the football field. “I was kind of quiet at school. Jade was the one who was louder, more of a leader, and I just… followed.”I’ll follow you ’til the end. My half of our mantra. I couldn’t remember when we’d started that. “Not rebellious. Definite rule-follower.”
“No cheating on tests?” he asked. “No pulling pranks?”
For half a second, my first instinct was to laugh—until I remembered freshman year cheer auditions. “No pranks,” I replied, but my tone was considerably smaller.
But as easily as it’d popped into my head, it was hard for it to get out. What would Logan say if he knew about what I’d done to Maisie? Would he look at me differently? Would he be disgusted?
The uncertainty left me feeling sick. “What do youmiss the most about who you used to be when you were younger?” I asked, needing the subject change.
Logan was quiet as he thought about it, and my focus drifted while I waited. Was it cliché to say that I missed the childish innocence?Life seemed so much simpler in middle school. Chatting with Jade at school, hanging out with Maisie after. We’d even used to do our homework together in her living room—we both went to different schools, but there’d been something so calming about working on different subjects together. I hadn’t been so intense about optics and appearances. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard the wordopticsbefore.
And then high school changed everything. But that was normal for everyone, right? I couldn’t stay stuck in middle school forever. I had to grow up sometime.
I realized then that Logan hadn’t answered.
Logan was looking off at the ground when I peeked back at him, but not at the players on the field. It looked like he just stared at a patch of grass. I studied his expression, because it was the one I rarely got to see. Quiet. Remote. As if his thoughts were on a whole other plane of existence. There wasn’t a hint of a smile to his lips, like there always was.
Until he felt my stare on him. Logan blinked, and his expression cleared, like a light turned on. Or like a mask slid on. He met my eyes with a smile. “Did you see that tackle?” he asked, tipping his chin toward the field.
I turned a little more in the cocoon of his arms, the slushy slipping in my grip. “What were you thinking about just now?”
“Not sure. Was my face serious?” Logan pinched his features into a theatrical scowl.
It was obvious he was tryingto brush it off. It only caused my curiosity to hook deeper. “I asked a question,” I said, popping my hip against the chain-link. “What do you miss the?—”
“Logan?”
The new voice cut me off mid-sentence, and we both turned to find a girl with dark hair standing a few feet away. Her eyes were popped wide as she looked at him—or, really, atus. Her eyes went from Logan, to me, to the jacket my arms were threaded through, back to Logan.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Logan said in greeting, sounding equally as surprised as she looked. Or nervous. He dropped his arms from the fence, from me, and took a step toward her. “You—you didn’t text.”
I looked at her a bit closer. She seemed about our age, and she didn’t have any makeup on, but she was still really pretty.You didn’t text.
