Page 79 of Riding the Sugar High

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Come on, you two,” his mom calls, and with a sigh, he lifts me until we’re both standing. I comb my fingers through my hair—I must look like an absolute lunatic— as his hand circles my hip, this time not to tickle but to gently pull me closer. I rest a hand and cheek on his chest and pose for the picture.

“Give us a kiss!” someone shouts, and I wish I knew who did it so I could incinerate them with my glare. I wouldn’t kiss my real boyfriend in front of his whole family whom Ijustmet—let alone a fake one.

But before I can protest, Logan’s lips press against the top of my head, pulling me even closer. Sinking into him, I close my eyes for a second.

Moments like this one, when he’s so gentle, make me like him even more. I like his rough edges too—how protective he is, how stubborn and direct. They’re all parts of him that make my blood boil, and I’m learning to appreciate that too. The passion—thefirebetween us.

But when he holds me, when he strips himself of his hard shell, I crave him in the most innocent way. It feels like the most dangerous too.

When Logan’s cousin stops clicking away, I almost ask her for the files. It’d be weird, I guess. As a couple, we should have plenty of our own pictures. But I’ll have to take one myself before I leave the farm. Though it’s possibly the most stressed I’ve ever been, I want to remember this moment of my life—or rather, Logan. Logan and me.

“My turn now,” Josie says as he walks closer. She wobbles a little, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, then stops next to the camera. Is she drunk? She and Aaron have kept away from us the whole day, so I can’t say for sure, but she definitely isn’t acting like herself. “Who’s going to take a picture with me?”

“Josie,” Aaron scolds as he grips her arm and pulls her back. “Let’s go drink some water.”

“No,Aaron,” she snarls. “I want to take pictures, and if you don’t, I’ll take one with Logan.”

My stomach twists as my fingers cling to Logan’s shirt. Everyone is watching her, the chatter now nonexistent, and the tension is almost insufferable.

“Josie—” Aaron tries again, but with a strong pull, she frees herself from his hold.

“Let mego.” She takes a step forward, tipping her glass to her lips and swallowing a big gulp of wine. She stumbles to the side, and before either Logan or Aaron can reach her, she falls, wine sloshing onto her dress. “Look!” she whines, lips twisted in a grimace. “Look what you made me do!”

Aaron slides his arm under her thighs and picks her up as Josie continues shouting at him. Lucy follows them inside, but I don’t have the heart to meet her eyes as she passes us.

A low mumble among the rest of Logan’s family morphs back into conversation, and before I’ve even noticed he left, Logan’s back by my side with our jackets.

He hands mine over, and with any trace of joy vanished, he mumbles, “Let’s go.”

expand my horizon

Primrose

“Come oooon,”I drawl. “Number seventeen.Expand my horizons.”

“Nope.”

I rest my back on the whithered concrete wall and frown. When he said he wanted to leave his parents’ place, I figured we’d return to the farm. Instead, we got an Uber back to Pinevale, and after a long—and silent—walk through the small town, he sat on the stairs of a church and announced he’d smoke weed.

He won’t letmetry, though.

“Come on. Help me check an item off my list.” He watches me as if trying to figure out which one, so I offer, “Push me out of my comfort zone.”

“Do you even know how to?” He taps the joint until the ashes fall off the tip.

“Yes, I smoked a cigarette just a couple of?—”

Shit.Shouldn’t have said that.

“You’re joking, right?That’show you set Derek’s trash on fire? How does that even happen?”

“It starts with an ill-advised cigarette disposal and a pile of dry leaves.”

“Yes, and it ends in prison.” When I pout, he rolls his eyes and holds the joint out. “Take a breath—not too deep, though. Start slow.”

I nod, awkwardly holding the long joint between my thumb and index finger. Beside me, Logan leans back against the weathered stone wall, the tip of his joint glowing softly in the dim light of the street lamps.

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