Wild(40)

            I stared at him for a long moment, the reality of him sinking in.

            Logan Mulvaney was a decent guy. I mean, sure, he got his rocks off while he was there. I saw that for myself, but he didn’t need to go to a kink club to get laid. I went to his baseball game. I saw the girls there. The guy was like a rock star with groupies everywhere. He went to the kink club to keep an eye on Rachel.

            I sucked in a breath, a little rattled from this revelation. It was hard enough to resist him when he was just a hot guy, but now he’s hot and decent.

            “What are you going to do about next year?” I asked. “Are y’all going to the same college?”

            He shook his head with a faintly sad smile. “I guess I have to let baby bird fly the nest and hope for the best.”

            I propped my elbow on the back of the futon and studied him. I felt my forehead knit, wondering if he would really be capable of doing that . . . of letting go and not trying to save his friend. “Who knew?”

            “What?”

            A slow smile lifted my lips. “That you made such a good mother bird.”

            “Don’t look at me like that.”

            “Like how?”

            “Your chocolate eyes all big. Like I’m some good, wholesome guy. I’m not. There are things about me . . .” His voice trailed off. He was no longer smiling. “I’m just not.”

            I wanted to ask, to press, but I couldn’t bring myself to demand more information on the not-good-wholesome guy he was. We stared at each other for a long moment until the tension grew too thick and I looked back at the TV. I still felt his stare on my face, but pretended to be lost in the movie.

            Eventually, he started watching it, too. Asking questions. We slid to the center of the futon, our shoulders touching as I caught him up on the various plot lines running through the movie.

            “So they don’t even speak the same language at all?” he asked, pointing to the couple on the screen. “That’s just wacked.”

            I shook my head. “No, that’s the beautiful thing about it. They fall in love anyway. They’re in sync without even knowing what the other one is saying.”

            I glanced from the TV and back at him as I was explaining, freezing when I caught the curious way he was looking at me. “You’re a romantic.”

            My cheeks flushed at the almost tender way he looked at me.

            I shrugged. “Me and every other girl.”

            He shook his head. “No. You’d be surprised how many girls don’t care about romance. Or love.” And then I remembered this was a guy who spent a lot of time at a kink club. I remembered his baseball game, too. The girls shrieking his name like he was some kind of teen heartthrob. Did they see him at all? Or just some hot jock with all the college scouts after him? A piece of meat they wanted to taste. Yeah, maybe Logan didn’t have a lot of experience with girls who believed in love and romance.

            I turned back to the movie, uncomfortable with these thoughts and realizing I hadn’t been that different from those girls in the beginning either. I hadn’t seen beyond his good looks and reputation. “You want a drink? Snack?”

            “I could eat.”

            I went in the kitchen and popped some popcorn. Tucking a couple cans of soda under my arm, I returned with a big bowl.

            We sat back on the couch and continued to watch the movie, munching on popcorn and chatting, covering a wide range of subjects. From why husbands always cheat with the secretary to why girls loved guys with British accents.