Emo Logan Paul Novels & Stories

I*******m loaded, and there he was—Logan Pierce, live from what looked like our favorite coffee spot, the one we always tagged in couple posts. The viewer count ticked up: 47,000… 52,000… climbing fast. He looked rough but composed—dark circles under his eyes, hair messy like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times. The chat scrolled wildly. “Hey everyone,” Logan started, voice heavy. “I know things have been blowing up online. The last few days have been hell. I didn’t want to do this, but I have to set the record straight. For my mental health. For the truth.”

“Bob. His name's Bob. I guess you don't know Noah's or my last names?” “If I didn't know his first name, how the heck am I supposed to know your last names?” she reasoned with him. His grin got bigger. “Why, are you guys famous or something?” “Or something,” Noah said, handing “Bob” his completed Angel's Tit. Two more men entered the man cave, getting past Hawaiian-shirt Dean with a nod. Logan, tall and slender with messy honey-colored curls patted him on the shoulder. Jack recognized the second man with a groan. It was Paul the lawyer. Jack was going to have to ask why in the hell Logan had brought the obnoxious man with him to the party.