Page 27 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

It sucks.

“Listen, I’m sorry.” I let out a slow breath and touch his arm, dragging my hand along his tan skin and tangling our fingers together. He’s wearing a red T-shirt, and I’m grateful for it. For the opportunity to touch him. Skin to skin. Because he needs the innocent intimacy almost as much as I do.

His muscles soften beneath my fingertips, but he stays quiet, waiting for my explanation.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” I start, “but I promise I found his shirt in your room and assumed it was yours.”

He sighs and finally graces me with his attention, looking almost sheepish, closing a bit of the distance between us. “I believe you, baby.”

“Finally,” I quip, the tension slowly releasing from my shoulders as I take another sip of my coffee. “I want to make you dinner, though. I feel like the last few weeks have been crazy. I want to reconnect. When are you free?”

Lifting his hand, Logan cups my cheek and drags his thumb across my jaw. “You really are beautiful.”

I roll my eyes. “That isn’t an answer.”

“Let’s have dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?” I cringe.

“What? You already have plans?”

“Buchanan got me a tutoring gig. It’s with Colt, actually. I’m meeting him tonight.”

“Colt?” he chokes out, wavering between being frustrated and butt hurt all over again. Like he can’t believe it. Like he doesn’t want to believe it.

“Look, it’s not a thing, okay? So please don’t make it one.”

“First, I find you in my roommate’s shirt, then I see you talking to him on the quad, and now you’re tutoring him?”

“Logan––”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t be serious, Ash.”

“You have no right to be jealous.”

“No right?” He scoffs. “Do I need to list off the shit again?”

“No. You don’t.” Defeated, my shoulders hunch, and I rub my hand over my face. “But I’m not going to turn down a tutoring opportunity simply because you don’t trust me.”

He flinches away from me, surprised. “You think I don’t trust you?”

“I think you should use this opportunity to prove you trust me. It’s only a tutoring gig, Logan.” Gently, I tug at the collar of his T-shirt, fisting the material in my hand in hopes he’ll look at me. When he does, I smile. “Let me make it up to you, though. For the shirt debacle and the tutoring gig. How ‘bout tomorrow night? I’ll make spaghetti. Your favorite.”

He frowns. “Can’t. I’m going out with the guys.”

“How about the night after?” I offer. “You can come to my place, maybe bring a bottle of wine? I’ll ask my roommates to make themselves scarce. It could be fun.”

“No roommates, huh?” He grabs my hip and pulls me closer to him. “So we’d have some privacy?”

“Yes.” I bat my lashes and peek up at him. “A lack of privacy has never stopped you before, but….”––he laughs––“Let me make it up to you.”

“And how, exactly, do you plan to make it up to me?” he asks, his eyes sparking with interest.

I bite my bottom lip and shrug. “I think we both know how creative I can be when the occasion calls for it.”

With another dark chuckle, he leans down and kisses me. It’s hot and hungry and so not appropriate for the middle of campus, but I tilt my head up and let him. Because he needs this. This confirmation we’re okay.

And so do I.

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