CHAPTER FIVE: A MEETING AT MY PLACE

A MEETING AT MY PLACE

Dylan shoved the pair of scissors and bottle of gun into his already cramped bag. He managed to zip the thing closed without breaking the zipper and a satisfied grin spread across his face. 

But it disappeared the moment he glanced up at the clock. 

“Four," he whispered as he stared at the ticking hand. "Shit.”

In all honesty, Dylan wished he could just sit this one out and fail the project. But Logan was smart. He knew Dylan would never let that happen. That was probably why he casually texted ‘four, my place’ after school, knowing Dylan would not say no. 

He had seen the message pop up from the notifications but refused to give Logan the satisfaction of actually reading it. 

Why the hell was he acting this way? That night was meant to be forgotten and he just…

Maybe Logan had actually forgotten. And he was the only one getting worked up about it. 

Still, he couldn't find an explanation for the scene in the bathroom. He'd closed his eyes, and had waited for a kiss… from Logan. He’d managed to convince himself that it was because of Logan's close likeness to Lucas. 

But deep down, he feared he was wrong. 

“Ugh," Dylan groaned, rubbing his aching temples. He closed in eyes and tried to control his breathing, but all he saw was Logan's teasing smirk and the way his jaw worked as he sucked his–

BEEP!

His phone vibrated with a new notification in his pocket. Sighing, he pulled the device out and clicked it on, half-expecting to see another text Logan. 

Instead, Lucas’s number floated on the screen. 

A smile formed on Dylan's face without him even trying as he clicked the message open and read it. But as his eyes traveled further down the text, his smile vanished. 

"Leaving?” Dylan exclaimed louder than he meant to. "W-why? Missy's place?”

Apparently, Lucas matched with Missy Grudgins for the art project and was leaving to her place. And that meant–

_______________________

“We're all alone." 

Logan stood by the doorway, hands in pockets, shirt unbuttoned to reveal his chiseled chest. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck slowly, catching the fading sunlight, and Dylan's attention. 

He took a step back, staring down at the street. Like Lucas would somehow spring out from behind the bins and ask that they walk in together. But, unfortunately, none of that happened. 

"Lucas… isn't in?" Dylan asked again, like repeating the question would cause Lucas to appear. “I don't think I can–" 

“Oh, don't worry," Logan said, moving to the side. He gestured toward the stairs, his grin stretching to a smile. “I don't bite, Dylan. You know that." 

Dylan felt tempted to tell him that he actually did bite, that his blowjob was sloppy and all teeth. But instead, he let out a shaky breath and simply nodded. 

He climbed up the porch steps. “Your room or…" 

“My room,” Logan answered, watching Dylan walk in before closing the door behind him. "You can go up there and wait for me while I go get something." 

“Sure." 

Dylan gripped the sling of his backpack tight, trying to steady his shaking hand as he headed toward the stairs. As he climbed, his mind traveled back to that night, to when he took his first drunken step up the stairs. 

"Keep focus,” he muttered under his breath, shaking the thought away. "Forget about it, will you?”

He managed to reach the corridor without conjuring a single thought about Logan, and trudged his way toward his room. He pushed the door open and a strong scent hit him almost immediately–woody, yet sweet. 

Like Logan. 

"Fuck,” Dylan cursed in frustration. He'd done it again. 

Mumbling to himself, he brought down his bag and began angrily pulling out everything he'd brought. It wasn't until he felt something prick his thumb that he actually stopped. 

Wincing, he pulled out his hand and looked down at his bleeding thumb.