Lili

I can hear them talking through his closed bedroom door. 

“Chill Mandi. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me.” Logan's voice is steady, sure. 

I know I shouldn’t be listening to this, I should walk away, find something to do. But I have no clue what I’m doing here. I feel like such an idiot. And what crushes me even more, though it shouldn’t even factor into the equation is that Logan scoffed at the idea there could be something between us. The tone of his voice when he said you have nothing to worry about really gets under my skin. Like our hookup meant absolutely nothing to him.

I take a deep breath and roll my eyes. I may not have Mandi’s curves, but God was I that awful? All five foot three of me wishes I could disappear into a hole in the floor.

I stalk off down the hall, needing to do something to keep my hands busy before I hit something. The day’s only half over and already been more than I can handle. I grab my purse from the chair and take off. I just need to survive finals and then I'll be gone and out of Logan's hair. And away from all my brother's drama.

When I get back to the apartment an hour later, I balance the bags of groceries in my arms and knock on the door.

Logan pulls it open and as soon as he sees me, his face relaxes. “Oh you’re back.” He actually looks worried. “Come on.” He lifts the bags from my arms.

“Thanks,” I mumble, following him into the kitchen.

“If you need a ride somewhere, I want you to let me take you. And I’m going to get you a spare key.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to walking.” My formal tone rings of finality, and he backs off. I already owe him too much. I won’t have him driving me around town and probably trying to pay for my groceries too.

He begins unloading the bags, cramming items into the fridge.  “Ground turkey?” he holds up the package.

“I thought I’d make us tacos tonight…I mean, unless you have plans. Of course you probably have plans.”

The shadow of a smile creeps across his lips. “Nope, no plans. And I can always eat.”

Oh God, I know what this is and I don’t want his pity. I am a moron. He’s probably going out later, maybe with his girlfriend. I struggle to remember if I’d heard anything recently about a girl he was seeing, but I can’t recall.

Logan is always seeing someone though the relationships never last long. I haven’t seen that much of him in the past year since he and Tate had a massive fight went their separate ways, and Tate continued, well, being Tate. “It’s okay, if you have a…date…or something. Don’t feel like you have to babysit me.”

He laughs. It’s a deep, throaty sound, that bobs his Adam’s apple and lights up his eyes. I can’t look away. “No. I don’t have a date.”

Why does he think that’s so damn funny? I begin rummaging through the cabinets in search of a skillet, checking to make sure he has the proper supplies.

“Here.” Logan taps the cupboard by the oven with his foot. 

I reach in and grab the skillet. “Is that girl…Mandi your girlfriend?”

“No,” he says.

No?

Just no?

Why did she seem angry that I was here?

I hold the skillet in my hands and turn to face him. “Listen, if my being here is going to cause any problems for you…I can figure something else out.” I look down at the floor as I say this last part. I won’t go to BJs. I’m certain I could figure something else out, but at the moment, I have no clue what that might be. Maybe there’s a homeless shelter with a cot with my name on it somewhere. Yay, me.

“Nah, everything’s cool. You being here is fine.”

Is it though? Won’t this be weird? “Don’t feel like you’re trapped to that stupid agreement you made to Tate earlier.” I want to make sure he knows he has an out.

He removes the skillet from my hands, setting it on the stove top softly, then lifts my chin to make me look up at him. “This has nothing to do with Tate.”

My heart drums in my chest. I’m not even sure what that means, but I nod my agreement.

He smiles, like he’s pleased that’s settled. “Thanks for offering to cook tonight.”

My stomach dances with nerves for some unknown reason. “No problem. I’m used to doing the cooking.”

He nods. He knows that. Growing up, he’d eaten over many times. “Are you sure you’re…okay? After everything today?”

I swallow. His gentle concern and unsteady gaze that stays rooted on mine, make it hard to keep my shield in firmly place and pretend that everything is fine. I look down at the floor, and give a tight nod.

“Well, listen, maybe you should go lie down and rest for a little bit. We have a while before dinner time, anyway.”

I meet his eyes, and this time he’s looking directly at me. Almost like he can see straight through me. At the mention of a nap, my body responds favorably, and I stifle a yawn. I had just walked to town and back, lugging a heavy sack of groceries, not to mention the emotional weight of my life falling apart around me. That will take a toll on a girl.

He chuckles, and steers me by the shoulders out of the kitchen. “I was right. Come on.”

He continues guiding me past the living room towards his bedroom, when I plant my feet in the hallway and stop. I look up at him, confused. “I figured I’d be sleeping on the couch.”

“Yeah. But right now, I’ll have the TV on and I don’t want it to bug you, so why don’t you just lie down in my room for a bit?”

I bite my lip, certain that Mandi would not approve of this, and get secretly excited by that idea. Clearly, I’m overtired if I’m thinking there would be any repeat from last year. His walls and boundaries are a lot more rigid than mine.

That one perfect night aside, he’s always kept me at a safe distance. No awkward silences, no lingering glances, so I must be smoking crack. Even if he is handsome and kind. And really freaking good in bed… It’s not happening. I nod my consent and let him guide me into his room.

I fall into the plush down comforter and snuggle against his pillows. They smell like him and I decide I like it. I hear him chuckle softly before closing the door behind him.

When I wake, I grab for my phone. I hadn’t expected to fall asleep at all, so I’m shocked to see it’s been two hours. I stretch and drag myself from the bed. I must have really needed the rest. That or his bed was just ridiculously comfortable. Probably both.

I clean up a bit in the bathroom, making sure I’m presentable. My hair has gotten too long and is now a messy cascade of waves and tangles from my nap. A rat’s nest would be a good description. I smooth it down the best I can and decide I have no one to impress. Logan’s known me since I was eight years old.

I head down the hall and am surprised to hear two male voices coming from the living room. Logan’s seated on one end of the couch and another guy is sprawled on the other end, a bottle of beer in one hand, the remote control in the other. He’s wearing a black baseball cap that says Fucking Bow Down in block lettering across the front. When he hears me approach, a slow, lazy smile lights up his face. Strong jaw line, deep brown eyes. The all-American jock type. He’s cute. Not as cute as Logan, but not many guys are.

I stop in front of them, and feel them both inspecting me. “Um, hi.”

“Sleep well?” Logan says, not taking his eyes off of me as he swigs from his own bottle of beer.

“Yeah, thanks. Your bed is awesome.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, and Logan grins, his dimples standing out, I feel stupid.

The other guy clears his throat. “You gonna introduce me, or what, bro?”

Logan’s expression hardens, suddenly remembering his friend is sitting there just staring at me. “This is Lili.” He motions to his friend. “Lili, this is Zach Sullivan. He lives downstairs. He transferred here last year and plays left wing. And since you’re staying here, you’ll probably see entirely too much of him.”

“Hey, cutie,” Zach says.

“She’s not a puck bunny, Zach,” Logan scolds. “Eyes off her tits.”

I suppress a smile and saunter forward to the couch and sit in the middle of them, feeling Zach still watching me with a cocky smirk that tilts his lips. Thankfully Logan’s returned to watching the TV, rather than me, but I can sense he’s frustrated. They’re watching some type of martial arts fight where two muscled guys try and pummel each other.

I’d forgotten that once upon a time, before Logan went full-in on hockey, had gotten really into fighting into martial arts. Growing up he did karate, tae kwon do and all other sorts of martial arts I had no business trying to pronounce. And now I guess sometimes he fights in hockey. I’ve heard he’s crazy good at both, but I couldn’t really picture Logan doing what I was seeing on the TV.  

The fighters are shirtless and tattooed, their muscles budging and expressions fierce. The bigger guy charges into the smaller, pale guy and plows him to the ground. He instantly begins clocking him in the face over and over until a gash above his eyebrow erupts in blood. Logan and Zach are both cheering and shouting. I shudder and hug my arms around my chest.  

“Are you cold?” Logan asks, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and onto my shoulders.

I shake my head, surprised he noticed my response at all, seeing how tuned in he was to watching the fight. “I just…that’s sort of hard to watch…” I wave one hand toward the TV.

Logan frowns.

“Do you watch our games, gorgeous? Logan’s ten times more brutal as this yahoo.” Zach motions to the screen.

“Logan looks at me thoughtfully, waiting to hear my answer.

I shake my head, clearing it of the mental images. “I haven’t been to a game in years. I’m going to go start dinner. Zach are you staying?”

“Are you cooking?” he asks.

I nod.

“Then hell yeah, I’m staying.”

I set to work, making myself at home in his kitchen. It’s stocked with all the basics and clean, but I can tell he rarely uses it for more than storing beer, as evident by the contents of his refrigerator. I did all the cooking for me and my mom, so maybe this is how I can earn my keep staying with him.