Page 71 of Wicked Minds
Logan meets me outside the dining hall for lunch, and I notice the lack of food in his hands as I approach.
“So,” he hedges. “I was thinking today we could go to the food court since you should realize by now that regardless of where we eat, I’ll be buying the food. But if you don’t want to brave the students there, we can go to a cafe or something instead.”
I chew on the inside of my lip as I mull it over. “I do like that spicy chicken dish the food court serves.”
His answering smile is all light and sunshine. “Food court it is, then.”
“Have you invited Royce?”
“Nah, the food court isn’t exactly his scene.”
“Well, you should still invite him to eat with us. We can always go somewhere else if he doesn’t wanna eat there.”
Still smiling, he dips down to kiss my nose. “Always thinking of everyone else,” he murmurs admirably before pulling back. “Alright, I’ll message him, but he won’t come.”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “At least we’ve invited him.”
Together, we head to the glass structure that houses the food court. Following him inside, the low hum of chatter reaches my ears along with the delectable combination of scents from various food options, from Thai to sushi to good old burgers and fries. My mouth salivates as my eyes bounce over the multiple food stations placed around the perimeter of the court. Each is a masterpiece of modern design with gleaming countertops, state-of-the-art cooking equipment, and displays that showcase the drool-worthy offerings.
Natural light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the entire space and offering panoramic views of the college’s meticulously landscaped gardens and paths.
Most of the central space features sleek wooden tables and plush chairs, which provide inviting spaces for students to gather, work, and enjoy their meals. Cozy booths adorned with vibrant cushions offer more intimate spots for group discussions and relaxed study sessions.
“What do you feel like eating?” Logan asks at my side.
“Ehhh…” I’m too overwhelmed to narrow it down to just one option.
Realizing this, Logan says, “You wanted the spicy chicken, yeah?” I nod and follow him to a Thai food station, where he loads up plates with various options before directing me to another. Just like always, he fills the tray with enough food to feed an army, and when satisfied, he leads me through the busy tables. People call out to him as we pass, but he doesn’tstop, acknowledging them with a tilt of his head or one of his infamous smiles.
“Yo, Logan!”
He stops at a table overflowing with tall, broad-shouldered men, and it only takes a moment for me to recognize the other faces of the Halston U hockey team.
“You sitting with us?” the same man asks.
“Nah, I’m gonna eat with my girl today.” All eyes snap to me, and I feel my cheeks heat as I smile and give the table a self-conscious wave.
“Good to see you actually exist,” Anderson—I forget his first name—says with an amusing grin. “We were beginning to think our man, Logan, had gotten so desperate he had to invent a fake girlfriend.”
“Nope, I’m perfectly real, but inventing a fake girlfriend does sound like something Logan would do.”
“Hey!” Logan chastises with a teasing smile as the table chortles. “I haven’t had to do that since junior high.”
Another burst of laughter goes up from the table, and this time, I join in.
“Anyway, we’re gonna go eat. I’ll catch you guys later.”
“Later, man,” Anderson says, as the rest of the table mutters their goodbyes. “Nice to finally meet you, Riley.”
I almost trip over my feet as Logan leads me away, not expecting any of them to know my name, but then again Logan did pin it to the back of his jersey for everyone to see.
“We didn’t have to sit over here if you wanna eat with your team,” I say when we sit down at an empty table along the glass wall that overlooks the expansive green at the front of campus.
“Nah. I spend enough time with them and not nearly enough with you.”
My cheeks once again flush, burning brightly beneath Logan’s attention, and I duck my head, picking up a French fry and smothering it in ketchup before placing it between my lips.
“I usually split my time between sitting with the team or with Royce and Grayson. Not that Royce comes here anymore, and Gray’s more likely to stab me with a fork these days.”
