Page 17 of Hypothetical Heart
My cheeks heat at the compliment, and I suddenly feel the need to turn away from him, but he grabs my chin, keeping me facing him. “Thank you.”
That’s when he wraps his arm around my shoulders, effectively moving and getting his arm out of the way and giving us both a little more room.
I absentmindedly lean into him, letting his hand fall on my back. I’m not sure why I do it; all I know is that it feels good.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
I nod, but inside, I feel a familiar twinge of uncertainty. In my eyes, Logan’s arm being wrapped around me is the best way this all could have turned out, and I have a sneaking suspicion he would agree.
Yet, the warmth of his touch stirs up something confusing—a mix of comfort and unease that I can’t quite shake.
I’ve always loved how Logan makes me feel safe, but moments like these leave me questioning if I’m leaning too far into something I’m not ready to confront.
Last night, a few hours after arriving at the Alderidge cabin, it was nearing ten o’clock, and there had been no mention of calling it a night.
Eloise started playing music from the kitchen, where she, Luke, and Logan were making cookies, while Gen, Jameson, and I had been sitting in the living room, building a puzzle on the coffee table.
Genevieve and Jameson had been doing most of the work while I’d been sorting through the pieces, and every time I held out an edge piece, they fought for it, trying to see who could pinpoint where it went first. I swear, nerds can make anything competitive.
Overall, it was a peaceful night until Eloise brought up the idea of going to a club the following evening.
The conversation was something along the lines of:
Eloise: “What if we go to a club tomorrow night?”
Genevieve: “A club? Seriously”
Eloise: “Yeah, don’t you think it would be fun?”
Somehow, she got all of us to agree to it, butnow that it’s the next day and we’re actually here, I don’t think any of us are nearly as excited anymore.
“How did we let her talk us into this?” I ask Genevieve when she sits down next to me, a drink in hand.
I look around the small-town club. It’s one of the only ones in the area, which makes it so it’s packed. The strobe lights glare off the checkered tiled floors, making me the tiniest bit dizzy. The rest of the place is confusingly disorganized; there are metal tables and chairs that don’t match the rustic walls. None of it goes together.
This is an eighteen and older club, so the only person we had to sneak in was Eloise, which is easy to do when the club has an emergency exit down the hall of the bathrooms with no security in sight.
That being said, none of the drinks we can get from the bar are alcoholic, but we came prepared.
“I’m not sure. I hope getting drunk will help me remember.” She pulls a flask of vodka out of the pocket of her leather jacket, pouring some into her cup of lemonade.
“Where are the guys?”
“Getting drinks. Logan’s getting yours,” Eloise answers as she also sits at the table, holding out a hand for the flask.
“Didn’t you bring your own?” Genevieve scoffs as she hands it over.
“It’s whiskey. That doesn’t mix with lemonade.”
“Did you say you have whiskey?” Luke asks, approaching the table.
Eloise pulls it out of the waistband of her jeans, giving it to him, and he dumps it in his cup of coke.
The scene of this club isn’t something I would normally choose to partake in, and I find it especially funny how we went from baking cookies and putting puzzles together lastnight to clubbing the next, but it is nice to do something a bit different every once in a while.
I make eye contact with Logan from across the room. He’s walking toward me, holding two cups.
I momentarily feel dizzy, and I’m not sure if it’s from the single shot I took at the cabin or if it’s because my eyes are locked on Logan. Either way, I feel the urge to sit down, like my body is screaming at me to take the precaution.
