Ch-3

KYLIE

When I reach the front porch of our house, the door swings open just as I'm about to pull my keys out of my bag. My stepbrother, Miles, steps out into the entryway, tossing a set of car keys in the air and catching them.

"Hey," Miles says, pausing when he sees me. "Where have you been? Dad's starting to ask about dinner."

"Just... out," I say, as I slip past him into the foyer.

Miles narrows his eyes. "You look weird. Are you okay? Did something happen?"

Before I can answer, the front door opens again behind me.

"Hey..." The person is saying when his eyes land on me. It's Logan. He sheds his leather jacket off and looks up, his eyes locking onto mine over Miles shoulder.

He winks.

"Hey, Miles," Logan says, tossing his keys onto the entry table. "Hey, Kylie."

"Hey, man," Miles greets. "You staying for dinner?"

Logan's gaze doesn't leave mine. "Wouldn't miss it," he says. "I've got a lot of planning to do for tomorrow."

I don't want to hear him talk about this in riddles. It feels like a huge burden knowing what he means while everybody's clueless. I have to fucking tell someone.

And I don't exactly have friends here considering I moved here last month. Well... my stepsister would have to suffice.

Hazel would understand? Would she?

Fast-forward to dinner and I'm still biting my lips as I try to figure out the perfect way to start the conversation after dinner.

My dad is sitting at the head of the table, laughing heartily at some story Elsie... my stepmom, and Miles and Hazel's mother... is telling while she bustles back and forth from the kitchen, balancing a platter of roasted chicken and a bowl of fresh salad.

Seated right across from Miles is his younger sister, Hazel. Hazel is twenty, the exact same age as me, and she’s currently half-listening to Miles ranting about a referee.

And then there’s Logan.

He’s sitting directly across from me. Of course he is. Out of all the seats at the rectangular wooden table, he slides right into the one facing me.

I stab a piece of chicken with my fork, keeping my eyes firmly locked on my plate.

"So, Logan," Miles says, shoveling a forkful of rice into his mouth. "You still crashing at the dorms this weekend, or are you actually going to sleep in your own room for once?"

Logan doesn't look away from me. Not even for a second. His fork hovers halfway to his mouth as a slow, lazy smirk touches his lips.

"Depends," Logan says, his eyes glinting across the candlelit table. "I might have some early morning commitments right here in the neighborhood."

My breath catches in my throat. I kick him under the table. It's hard but he doesn't flinch. His expression doesn't crack, though a sharp intake of breath gives him away. Instead, his gaze drops briefly to my shins under the table before crawling back up to meet my eyes, looking amused.

"You good, sweetie?" my dad asks, pausing mid-bite from the end of the table. "You look a little red. Is it too hot in here?"

"I'm fine, Dad," I say, coughing slightly as I grab my glass of water and take a desperate gulp. "Just... choking on my food."

"Maybe chew before you swallow, squirt," Logan tells me.

Squirt? I want to throw my glass of water straight into his face.

Hazel looks up from her phone, narrowing her eyes at Logan. "Did you seriously just call her squirt? Because if my brother didn't like you so much, I'd kick you under the table myself."

"Hey, leave Logan alone," Miles grumbles, shaking his head. "Anyway, as I was saying, coach wants us running drills at six a.m. on Saturday..."

While Miles launches back into his sports rant, Logan casually kicks his foot out under the table. His sneaker brushes against my ankle, sending a shock shooting up my leg.

I freeze, my eyes snapping up to his.

Logan is cutting his chicken, looking like the picture of a polite, well-behaved houseguest. But his left foot stays firmly pressed against mine.

He is enjoying this way too much, I think, narrowing my eyes at him.

Underneath the table, I press my foot back against his, pushing hard.

Logan pauses. His eyes flick up, and the smirk deepens. Slowly, he presses back, sliding his foot further up my calf.

"You know," Logan says, "Kylie and I were just talking outside about expanding our horizons."

My heart skips a beat. Is he actually going to say it? To my dad? To my stepmom? To my face?!

My dad blinks, setting his fork down and looking between the two of us with an inquisitive brow. "Expanding your horizons? What does that even mean?"

Before I can die of embarrassment, Elsie chimes in happily from the end of the table, carrying a basket of dinner rolls. "Oh, I think it's wonderful! Kylie spends way too much time locked in her room reading romance novels anyway. Right, Ky-bug?"

"Right," I say. "Exciting new horizons."

Hazel squints at Logan, then at me. "Wait. You and Logan? Doing what?"

"Just helping her explore some new study habits and campus activities," Logan says.

"See?" Logan adds, finally pulling his foot away from mine. "We're going to learn so much."

"Well, as long as it gets her out of the house," Dad chuckles, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Pass the rolls, Miles."

"Right. Whatever," Miles mutters.

Dinner finally ends, and the moment Elsie and Dad get distracted clearing the table while Miles and Hazel argue about washing dishes, I slip down the hallway toward the front door, needing a breath of fresh air before my brain short-circuits.

I push the front door open and step out onto the porch, pulling the cool night air deep into my lungs. The autumn breeze whips my brown curls around my face, but I barely notice.

"Running away so soon?"

I jump, whirling around.

Logan is leaning against the wooden pillar of the porch, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching me with a smile. He must have followed me out through the side exit while everyone was distracted.

"Don't you ever sneak up on people."

"Why? It's fun."

"Look, no small talk. You help me, it's over. I'm not going to be one of your hookups." I eye him. "The last one looked... I don't know..."

Logan laughs. "Ouch. Tiffany didn't deserve that."

"Tiffany?" I raise an eyebrow. "Is that what her name was?"

"Honestly? Half the time, I'm guessing," he admits without a hint of shame.

I roll my eyes. "God, you're hopeless."