“Yeah, of course. I mean, I owe you after Saturday night.”
Logan’s eyes remain fixed on mine. “You don’t owe me anything.”
As we stare at each other, the air sizzles between us. Like I’ve got igniter fluid in my gaze that only reacts to Logan.
He looks away first, swallowing. “Can you do straight after school? I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Sure.”
* * *
Logan waitsfor me in the parking lot after school. It’s a sunny day, the kind of random winter day that surprises you.
We chat about nothing much as he drives to my house. I try not to notice his hands as they tap a beat on the steering wheel.
The scent of freshly mown grass greets us as we get out. And okay, it’s only because the landlord in the next house has finally decided to do something about the knee-length curb-side grass, but it still adds to the golden day.
“Right, so…isotopes…” I say when we’re seated at my desk. The distance between our chairs has gradually closed over the last month, which means Logan is now only an arms’ brush away. His blue-green eyes are intense on mine as he patiently waits for me to continue.
I gulp. Isotopes.
“All you really need to know is they are atoms that have the same number of protons but a different number of neutrons. So, you can get Carbon-12, which has six protons and six neutrons, or Carbon-13, with six protons and seven neutrons.”
Logan’s smooth brow furrows. “But I thought carbon always has six neutrons.”
“Ninety-nine percent of naturally occurring carbon atoms have six neutrons, but some forms have seven.”
“So it’s a carbon atom that doesn’t follow the crowd. It dares to be different,” Logan says.
His smile sparks a feeling of certainty inside me. I have never felt this way about anyone. It doesn’t scare me that I’m attracted to him. It scares me that I wanteverythingwith him.
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, it dares to be different. Anyway, do you want to practice working out the different numbers of protons, electrons, and neutrons for some isotopes?”
“Sure.”
I quickly write down a problem.
Logan races through it, giving me a triumphant grin when he gets it right. All that does is increase the racing of my heart.
Shit.
I’m going to have to tell him to get another tutor. Being this close to him—it’s seriously messing with my head.
I open my mouth to speak, but Logan beats me to it.
“You ready for a break? Basketball?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I follow Logan down to the hoop with leaden feet. Maybe I should just be honest with him?
Sorry, Logan, I can’t tutor you anymore because I’ve kind of got a crush on you, and it’s starting to hurt every time I’m with you and don’t get to touch you.
God. My face heats up just imagining saying those words.
When we get down to the concrete, I can’t focus.
Logan dribbles the ball a few times while I make a halfhearted attempt to swipe it away from him.