Chapter 5 We Need Rules

Max's voice played on a loop in my head as I walked back to my dorm.

Logan liked me? Absolutely not. Only if hell had frozen over.

I'd denied it immediately and listed every reason it was impossible. Logan Carter couldn't like the girl he'd mocked relentlessly. He'd bullied me for years, calling me Four Eyes, Yoda, shrimp, and a dozen other nicknames. There was no universe in which that added up to liking me.

Max had given me the smile he always wore when he disagreed but didn't want to argue. He'd dropped the subject after that, and we'd talked about everything except Logan until eight. Then Max, Carl and I split up to study, and Dejon headed to a frat party.

I'd only attended one frat party in my entire life. One was enough.

I'd barely been inside when a drunk guy cornered me near the kitchen and pressed himself against me. I tried to step around him, but he blocked my way, whispering that I wanted this and should stop pretending as he ground against me. Then he started dragging me toward the bathroom.

It took both Max and Dejon to get him off me. That was how I'd met them. Max walked my trembling self back to my dorm while Dejon beat the shit out of the frat boy. Before he left, Max put his number into my phone and told me to call if I ever needed someone. I called him the next morning. I hadn't slept a wink that night, the scene replaying in my head along with every worse thing that could have happened if they hadn't shown up.

By the time I reached Kensington Hall, I'd shaken it off. I looked up to see Vanessa bouncing toward me, bedazzled from head to toe in pink jewelry.

"Chloe, are you really dating Logan?" she asked, beaming.

I forced a smile of my own. "Yeah," I said, as enthusiastically as I could manage.

Her face lit up, and she shook her fists with a little squeal. "I now have a friend who's dating someone famous!"

Vanessa had always considered us friends. I'd never had the heart to correct her.

"Yay," I said with a weak grin, tapping my key card against the scanner.

"All right, Chloe, see you later!" Vanessa waved energetically.

I gave her another tight smile and slipped inside. The second the door closed behind me, I sighed heavily and let the smile drop.

Logan sat on his bed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, phone in hand. I didn't spare him a glance. I dropped my bag on the table with as much noise as possible, grabbed my towel, and headed for the bathroom with a huff.

I rested my forehead against the shower glass and let the warm water run over my shoulders while my thoughts went in circles.

I'd planned to complain about the rooming arrangement until someone gave in. But after seeing how strongly Nathan opposed Logan and me living together, I was having second thoughts.

Logan was the one deceiving his best friend anyway. What did that have to do with me?

And if I was being honest, there was something satisfying about knowing Nathan had no idea what was happening right under his nose. I wondered what his face would look like when I finally told him Logan had lied.

That thought alone made me chuckle. At least one thing about this situation was entertaining.

When I came out, Logan was sitting upright, still scrolling. I changed into my pajamas and sat on my bed, drying my hair with a towel.

Maybe I didn't hate Logan as much when he wasn't talking. This could work. He could stay on his side of the room, I could stay on mine, and if he kept up the silence, we'd probably survive the semester.

"Chloe."

I closed my eyes as the idea evaporated. "What?!"

"I was thinking we should practice being a couple."

"Practice?"

"Yeah." He put his phone down and turned toward me. "You know how couples are always all over each other?" He gestured between us. "We need to look more in love. Otherwise people are going to suspect something."

"Not all couples like PDA."

"True." He nodded thoughtfully. "But convincing couples show some form of PDA."

"So… holding hands?"

"No." He shook his big, fat head. "We're not in middle school."

I rolled my eyes and went back to drying my hair.

"Come here." He held out his hand, as if I'd run to him like a fangirl.

I stared at it, then at him, and didn't move.

"Chloe."

I sighed in exasperation and walked over. "What?"

Before I could react, Logan caught my waist and pulled me onto his lap.

His arm settled around me, keeping me balanced against him. I went completely still. This close, I could see tiny flecks of light blue in his eyes. I'd never noticed them before, probably because I was usually too busy glaring.

"Something like this," Logan said, smiling.

I gave him a scathing look.

"Smile more, Chloe, or people are going to think you hate me."

"I do hate you!" I said, and forced my lips upward.

He stared for a second. "That is the worst smile I've ever seen."

"I don't care."

He laughed. "Hold still."

"Why?"

Click.

"Did you just take a picture of me?"

"Yeah." He looked down at his phone. "I want to use you as my wallpaper."

He turned the screen toward me. I looked like I'd been kidnapped and told to prove I was having fun.

"I look ugly."

"I think you look cute."

The words came out so easily that for a second I didn't know what to say. I looked at him. He wasn't laughing, wasn't smirking. He was studying the picture with what seemed like genuine feeling.

Max's voice echoed through my head. I think he likes you.

My heart gave one irritating little jolt.

"What?" I asked, catching him staring at me.

His eyebrows drew together. "You're not frowning anymore. You always frown when you look at me."

I suddenly became very aware of how close we were. His hand still rested at my waist. My legs were pressed against his thighs.

"Look at me."

My teeth clenched. I didn't enjoy being ordered around, but refusing suddenly felt like it would mean something.

So I looked.

His eyes moved slowly over my face, from my forehead to my eyes to my nose to my lips, as if he were memorizing me. Neither of us spoke.

"Logan—"

He leaned in.

I could have moved.

I should have moved.

His lips brushed mine, gentle, and everything in my head turned to dust.

My palms pressed against his chest, instinctively trying to push him away. Then I felt his heart beating beneath my hands. Fast.

It disarmed me completely. My fingers curled into his shirt instead, pulling him closer, and I kissed him back.

Oh God. Kissing was supposed to be overrated. Butterflies were something writers invented to make romance sound dramatic.

I'd been wrong. Adrenaline coursed through me, and there was a ridiculous fluttering in my stomach. I had the terrifying realization that I wanted Logan closer. Much closer.

His lips traveled to my jaw, then lower, to my neck. A shiver ran through me as he sucked at my skin, and I grabbed his head, moaning with reckless abandon.

Then, suddenly, my brain came back online.

What the fuck was I doing? Were those sounds coming from me?

I shoved him away.

Logan stared at me, comically confused. I scrambled off his lap, my face burning.

"What was that?!"

"You kissed me back."

"I was confused."

"Confused?"

"Yes." I wrapped my arms around myself. "We need rules. Rule number one: that can't happen again."

"Why not? You're an adult. I'm an adult," he said. "We both wanted it."

I nearly covered my ears. No!

"We don't both want anything! This is fake. FAKE." I waved toward his lap. "Think about that instead of thinking with your dick!"

"Fine!" Logan looked away. "Fake!"

The word sounded bitter coming from him.

I ignored the uncomfortable twist in my chest. No. I wasn't doing this, not with Logan. One moment of weakness and unbridled passion wasn't worth ruining everything. What if he mocked me afterward? I pulled my collar over the spot on my neck where his mouth had been. What if that was his end goal, being able to say he'd fucked Chloe Turner?

Logan stood and grabbed his bag.

"Where are you going?"

"Basketball practice." He swung the strap over his shoulder. For a second, he looked like he wanted to say something.

"Logan."

He stopped.

I didn't know what I wanted to say, so I said nothing.

His jaw tightened. He opened the door and walked out.

I sat on my bed, hands twisting together in my lap. I could still feel his arms around my waist, his lips against mine, and the desire that had surged through me to rip our clothes off.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This was supposed to be fake. Fake!