Page 25 of Frozen Hearts
“Don’t forget, lab reports are due next week,” my Chemistry Professor shouts over the cacophony of noise as everyone gathers their things and begins to file out of the classroom.
I groan internally, stressed over the quickly mounting workload sitting heavy on my shoulders. I swear I have like eight assignments due within the next week. How do the other students have time to party and socialize and still stay on top of the workload? I’m barely managing to balance working and studying, never mind any of the rest of college life.
I’m mentally configuring my study plan for the rest of the week as I walk down the corridor when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I pause, staring at the screen in confusion as Logan’s name flashes across it.
“Hello?” I ask, half convinced he’s butt-dialed me.
“Where are you?”
I glance around, confused. “Outside Jefferson Hall, why?”
“Oh, cool.” The background noise becomes more prominent, and my face scrunches as I strain to listen. It almost sounds as though he’s running. “I’m nearby. I’ll be out front in a sec. Meet me there.”
Pushing my way through the double doors leading outside, I keep the phone pressed to my ear as I search my surroundings. “Okay…”
“So, how’s your day going?” Logan asks casually. What the actual hell is happening right now?
“Ehh. Good, thanks. Yours?”
“Pretty decent so far. Coach definitely didn’t get laid last night, though. He was a total dick this morning. Pushed us in training until I thought I was going to puke.”
“Is that why you sound like a forty-a-day smoker?” I tease, hearing his heavy breathing over the line.
He huffs a breathy laugh. “Are you sassing me right now? You realize I’m doing cardiofor you.”
“I don’t remember asking you to run for me.”
“That’s because you’ve crammed your brain with too much book knowledge. There’s no room to remember all the things you say to me, but don’t worry, Shortcake, I’ll remember for you. You’re still coming to mine for a sleepover tonight, right?”
I can’t help laughing. I don’t know how Logan does it, but even when I’m having the worst day, he always seems to pull a smile from me.
“I definitely did not agree to that.”
“You totally did.”
“When?” I counter.
“It was late last night. You were all alone in your bed, missing me like you do every night”—cue another laugh—“and when you finally worked up the courage to call and tell me, I said‘Shortcake, you know you’re always welcome to share my bed’, and you said‘Oh Logan, I was hoping you would say that, but my pajamas all shrunk in the wash so I’d have to sleep naked…”
Okay, I full belly laugh at his ridiculous attempt at mimicking my voice, and the absolute horse shit coming out of his mouth. “I feel like you’re confusing me with whatever porn site you were perusing last night.”
“Nope, I don’t think so,” he says, tone serious. “She looked and sounded just like you.”
“How could you see me, I thought I called you?”
“Huh. Guess it must have been a FaceTime.”
“Yeah, or your imagination is playing tricks on you. Maybe you’ve taken one too many pucks to the head. You should probably see a doctor about that. It’s a real thing now—traumatic brain injury.”
“I do not have a traumatic brain injury,” Logan scoffs. “I’ll have you know my brain is in perfect working order, just like a certain other head—”
“Oh. My. God! Logan!”
He chuckles, thoroughly amused by his own childish joke. “Oh, I see you.”
Looking up, I spot him as he jogs toward the building, ignoring the other students as they wave or try to catch his attention. He’s still got his phone pressed to his ear, sights set on me, until he’s standing right in front of me, his cheeky grin aimed solely at me.
“Hey, Shortcake.”
