Page 83 of Attractive Forces
He’s got a cap pulled low on his head, but I see the shadows under his eyes. It looks like he got about as much sleep as me.
It should make me feel better that he’s obviously upset too.
Instead, it makes me feel worse. I don’t like the idea of Logan suffering.
Our eyes meet, and I’m pretty sure my face is a direct mirror of the misery on his face.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I reply.
We both stop, staring at each other. Logan rubs at his jaw. Shit. What can I say to make this moment less awkward? Suddenly, Brewer is by Logan’s side.
His top lip curls up. “Jakey, what’s up?” he says. He doesn’t even wait for my answer. He’s already tugging Logan away. “Come on, man, can’t be late for Coach.”
“Yeah,” Logan says. He looks at me and opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then his lips press together and he lets Brewer tug him away.
I stand there, trying to regain control of my heart, which feels like it’s been stampeded and crushed into the ground.
Then I catch up with Chloe, who’s waiting a few feet ahead of me.
She sends me a sideways look. “What happened between you and Logan?” she asks.
“What do you mean, what happened?”
“I mean, that wasn’t your normal best-bros interaction.”
I shrug, saying nothing. I don’t trust myself to get out coherent words right now.
“Are you still tutoring him?” Her question is innocent, but it’s like a knife blade straight through my ribs.
I struggle to keep my breathing even as I answer. “He doesn’t need chemistry tutoring anymore.”
Maybe it’s for the best that this thing with Logan ended. I can concentrate solely on my grades and getting a good scholarship to university now there’s not a blue-green-eyed rugby player to distract me.
But should something that’s for the best hurt so much?
26
Logan
I go through the next week on autopilot. Rugby practices are intense because we’re preparing to play the semi-final against Mayfair, a tough team from one of the private all-boys schools in Dunedin.
But I welcome the hard hits from my teammates. I welcome the burn in my muscles as I push myself to the edge.
Mazza and Smithy are mucking around at Friday’s practice, using the tackle bags for kickboxing instead of rugby, having a competition about who can do the highest roundhouse kick.
“Stop messing around,” I growl at them.
Mazza’s eyes widen. “What crawled up your ass?”
“We’re not going to win if you don’t focus properly,” I say as I stalk off.
“Logan,” Coach calls as we’re heading off the fields. I stop in my tracks, stiffening. What does he want? I've done exactly what he wanted. Jake and I are no longer together.
“What’s up, Coach?” I try to keep my voice even.
“Just chill out a bit, okay?”
