Page 62 of Because of Logan

Logan asks her, looking for the telltale signs of inebriation.

“Yes, I only had one beer, and I didn’t even finish it.”

After a prolonged examination, he’s satisfied that she’s sober.

“Okay, go get your friend. We’ll wait and walk you to the car.”

River looks back at the house and at me.

“No need. I’ll just grab Becca and leave. I have my cell on me. I’ll text Skye when we’re in the car and then again when I get her into her room. I might crash there. I’ll let you know.”

Logan’s eyes narrow on us. It doesn’t take a trained cop to figure out we’re hiding something.

“What’s going on?”

I look at River.

“I’ll tell you when we get home.”

Logan doesn’t push. His hand goes to the small of my back, and he guides me to the side of the house and out to the sidewalk where he stops to take his jersey off and pull it over my head.

“You’re shivering.”

It’s colder now. I didn’t feel it while sitting on his lap and by the fire pit, but now that I have neither heat source, the night chill is catching up with me. He has a white T-shirt on. I’m glad his body is not on display for any of the many girls I caught looking at him tonight. Okay, it’s a little hypocritical, since my body has been on display for hours now. I know.

We make our way to the car in silence. We drove my car since it's a lot smaller than Logan’s truck, and with the limited amount of space, it’s easier to park. He opens the passenger door for me first and goes around to take the driver seat. We sit for a couple of minutes as the car warms up. The clock on the dashboard says it’s nearly midnight. We’ve been out longer than I thought.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“I could eat.”

Then I look at myself.

“Not exactly dressed for dinner.”

“It’s Halloween. No one will care, and my shirt goes nearly to your knees.”

“True. Okay, then. Feed me, Seymour.”

He laughs.

“I was thinking of something lessLittle Shop of Horrorsand more likeRatatouille.”

He brings me to a 24-hour diner near the campus. I don’t stick out as much as I thought I would. The place is busy for being this late at night, and more than half of the occupants have costumes on. We’re told to sit wherever we want, and Logan finds a corner booth away from most of the diners.

My phone buzzes against my belly. Like River, I had it stuck inside my skirt and forgot all about it. I pull it from under Logan’s jersey.

River: Got Becca. Driving to her dorm now. Will spend the night with her.

Skye: Is she okay?

River: I don’t know. I’ll call you if anything changes.

Skye: Okay. Text me in the morning. I’ll pick you up.

“It’s River. She’s okay. Driving Becca to her dorm.”

The waitress comes, and without looking at the menu, Logan orders pancakes and coffee. I get the same.

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