Just Friends
I’ve always been “the quiet, nerdy girl.” The girl with her nose buried in a book, the girl people barely notice. But my world is a lot more complicated than it seems. You see, I’m absolutely, hopelessly in love with my best friend, Logan Reyes—the bad boy everyone wants but nobody can quite hold onto. And he has no idea.
Logan and I have been friends forever. We banter, we laugh, and we’re close. But to him, I’m just Emma, the girl he’ll confide in about everything—except his new flings, like Vanessa, the school’s reigning queen bee. She’s got her sights on Logan and everyone knows it. Meanwhile, Logan and I share this strange, unspoken chemistry that I can’t ignore, even if we act like it’s no big deal.
But everything changes the night I get roped into a game of spin the bottle at Vanessa’s party. When the bottle lands on Logan, he kisses me in front of everyone.
And this…this is the story of how I fell for Logan Carter.
***
Warning: Prolonged exposure to Logan may result in a one-night stand and a series of bad decisions. But let’s be honest, even if he came with that warning, girls would still throw themselves at him like he was some kind of cosmic reward for good behavior. And those girls? Yeah, they’d rather set me on fire than see me breathe the same air as him.
“Em, you seriously need to get out more,” Logan said, his voice carrying that annoyingly charming lilt that could probably make algebra sound interesting.
I shot him a look, clutching my soda like it was a shield. “And what? Join your cult of admirers? No, thanks. I’m not cut out for worshiping at the altar of Logan Carter.”
His grin widened, infuriatingly smug. “It’s not a cult—it’s an exclusive fan club. I might be able to get you in, though.”
“Oh, how generous,” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “What’s the membership fee? My dignity?”
Logan laughed, the kind of laugh that made everyone else sound like they were trying too hard. “Dignity’s optional, but you’ll need to work on your sense of humor.”
“And yet here you are,” I shot back, “spending your precious time with the dullest, dorkiest person in the campus. Makes me wonder who’s really the pathetic one.”
He leaned back, hands behind his head, and gave me a slow, lazy smile that had no business looking that good. “Ouch! If you were a little nicer, you might actually make some friends.”
“Friends like you?” I scoffed, tossing a balled-up napkin at his head. He caught it midair, of course, because apparently, being good at everything was just part of his DNA.
“Exactly. I’m a great friend,” he said, tossing the napkin back with precision that made me think he could moonlight as a paper-towel ninja.
““You’re insufferable,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
“And you’re fun to mess with,” he countered, leaning closer. His face was suddenly way too close, his stupidly perfect jawline practically mocking me. “Admit it—you’d be bored without me.”
I’d be lost without you, my traitorous thoughts whispered, uninvited. I raised an eyebrow, refusing to flinch. “I’d be peaceful without you. There’s a difference.”
“Sure,” he drawled, his voice dropping just enough to send a chill down my spine. “Keep telling yourself that.”
My comeback died in my throat as he leaned back with a triumphant smirk, like he’d just scored the winning point in a game I didn’t even know we were playing.
Later, as the sun dipped lower and he recounted one of his ridiculous pranks, I found myself laughing despite my best efforts to stay unimpressed. That was the problem with Logan. No matter how annoying he got, he had this way of making me forget all the reasons I wanted to strangle him.
When it was time to leave, he slung an arm around my shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. My brain short-circuited as I tried to act like I didn’t notice.
“See you later, Em,” he said with a grin that should have been illegal.
“Yeah,” I managed, my voice way too shaky for my liking.
***
At home, I buried my face in a pillow, trying to drown out the memory of his arm around me. It didn’t help that when I reached for my book, the hero’s smirk practically screamed Logan. Of course, the fictional bad boy also had a habit of driving the heroine insane.
My phone buzzed, yanking me back to reality.
Logan: “You’re coming to the party, right? Don’t make me drag you there.”
I stared at the message, my stomach doing somersaults. Logan dragging me anywhere was a dangerous thought—and the worst part? I wasn’t sure I’d mind.
