Page 96 of Hypothetical Heart
“Something for you to wear,” he says, like it’s obvious.
I’m not opposed to him taking the task off my plate, especially considering I only brought my favorite clothes to college–despite what Logan would say by the looks of it–so it’s not like he can pick out an outfit I’ll hate.
He comes back out with a sparkly top and a pair of ripped jeans. “I think this will look good.”
I watch him through the mirror lay the outfit flat on my bed, smoothing it out in the most endearing way possible.
“That’s cute, good choice,” I tell him as I put mascara on. “Do you want to pick out my underwear too?” I joke.
“Winnie,” he sighs, running his hands over his face. “You’re torturing me.”
“Not like you haven’t already seen them all.” I can’t tell if his reaction is out of actual embarrassment or if it’s my teasing that riles him. My guess would be the latter.
“Get dressed.” He laughs, ruffling my hair when he steps behind my chair. “We need to leave soon.”
By the time we get to the restaurant near the center of the city, Logan is already carrying my purse in one hand while the other is wrapped around my waist. Maybe it was a bad idea to walk here.
“Do you know anybody here?” I ask as he opens the door for me.
“No, that’s the point.”
Almost every table in the upscale restaurant is filled to the brim with college students, and I can’t help but notice the nerves that run up my spine. Logan grabs my hand, pulling me toward two empty seats where we set our stuff down.
“Want a drink?” he asks, and I nod, already following him toward the bar.
Sitting at the high top waiting for our drinks, a girl and guy approach us.
“Hey. I’m Alex,” the guy says, smiling toward me. “This is Brianna.”
“Logan.” The guys shake hands. “This is my girlfriend, Winnie.”
I’m taken aback by the title, but Logan made it seem so natural that I’m tempted not to question it. Still, my smile widens at the adoration in his voice.
“Hi.” I wave, smiling politely.
“Do you do ballet?” Brianna asks me, sitting in the barstool next to me.
“Um... yeah, I do.”
“I can tell, your feet are in first position right now.”
I look down toward my feet resting on the rod of thebarstool to find they are, in fact, in first position. Nobody has ever noticed this about me before, which is odd considering I’ve spent almost my entire life subconsciously training my brain to have perfectly turned-out feet.
“It’s a habit,” I reply. Ever since I was little, I’ve found any excuse to fix my posture or stretch my feet.
“I have a few friends who were in ballet companies growing up. That’s the only reason I noticed.”
My phone lights up with a text from where it’s sitting face-up on the bar top.
It’s from Genevieve, a picture of her and Jameson sitting on her dorm bed.
“Aw, look.” I face the screen toward Logan.
He turns away from his and Alex’s conversation, smiling at the sight of our best friends. “They’re all settled?”
“Yeah, Evie texted me earlier saying she finally felt like the room was clean enough for now.” Every time we’ve called in the past week, Genevieve was cleaning her dorm. It didn’t matter how many times she had swept and mopped, in her head, she still knew people lived there before her and couldn’t stop fixating on it.
“You should invite her to visit sometime,” he says right as the bartender finally sets our drinks down in front of us.
