Page 102 of Attractive Forces
It’s a sweet kiss simmering with emotion. I close my eyes and savor the warmth of Logan’s lips on mine, the taste and smell of Logan invading my senses, my hands sliding into his hair while his move around the skin of my back, causing me to shiver.
There’s so much…truth in this kiss. As our tongues slide together, I hope Logan is picking up the truth that I'm trying to tell him.
But when I finally draw back, seeing him with his hair tousled and lips red, everything I've learned in the last few months floods my mind.
About truth and lies. And how the decision not to do something is still making a choice.
I know what I need to say.
“Just so you know, I’m kind of in love with you.” My voice is no louder than a whisper, but Logan definitely hears me because the grin that lights up his face is the most spectacular thing I’ve ever seen. I smile in return, despite my pounding heart, because I’m pretty sure love is something you should always smile about.
For a few heartbeats, we just smile at each other.
Then his grin turns mischievous. “You’re kind of in love with me? What percentage are we talking?”
I huff out a laugh. “Are you making me nerd this out as well?”
“You do it so well. And this is one situation where the equation is completely balanced, by the way. I mean, the equation is at equilibrium, in that what is on one side is matched by what is on the other side—"
“Okay, you can stop now.”
“Did I get the science wrong?”
“Nah, this time you got it really right.”
“Well, I am very talented at chemistry. I have a good tutor.”
I’m still laughing when he kisses me again.
32
Logan
Jake and I walk back hand-in-hand to the waiting room.
Despite my worries about Aaron and my father, there’s a lightness in my step.
Jake loves me. And I love him.
That knowledge makes me feel everything’s going to turn out okay.
It also makes me brave enough to turn on my phone when I sit back down.
Sure enough, I have a stream of messages from Coach and my rugby teammates, all variations on the same theme:Where the fuck are you?
My fingers tremble as I go on social media and find a shaky feed showing me the game. There are five minutes left to play, and the team is down twenty-eight to twenty-six.
Fuck.
“They’re losing?” Jake asks, his forehead knitted with concern as he looks at the screen over my shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Just as I’m contemplating coping with being the most hated person in the whole school, in the whole town, Peyton, my backup first five, throws an incredible pass. Brewer catches it and dodges two defenders to crash over the try line for five points.
