Welcome to the shit show…

You met John Logan on your very first day at Briar. Your empty dorm room, completely devoid of personality or furniture, was driving you crazy. You managed to get the number of a campus handyman to help assemble your things. Minutes later, the handyman showed up at your door, smiling and eager to help. Nearly three years later, he still lives glued to your side.

You complemented each other instantly. You liked the same movies, the same bands, shared a few classes, and shared one major passion: cars. Driving around campus in the vintage collector’s Beetle inherited from your dad was practically a test of resilience. The first time Logan saw it, he nearly fainted.

It was friendship at first sight. You met his friends and became part of their group. You helped Garrett study during the early hours of the morning; you spent hours in the kitchen with Tucker, where he’d make the main courses and you’d handle the desserts; you beat Dean at chess until he started yelling that you were a witch or that you were cheating. Very quickly, it all became a routine.

Everything became second nature.

Whenever your schedules aligned, Logan walked you to class.

On Monday nights, whenever there weren't any games, you’d study together, or with one of the guys, until the crack of dawn.

On game nights, you were right there in the stands, ready to throw your arms around him whether they won or lost.

At Malone's, you had your own ritual: you paid for the food, and he covered the drinks.

It was a good routine. Comfortable.

The problem with your routine is that you got used to part of it, but not to certain other parts.

Like the way he carried your bag for you.

Or how most of the time you’d fall asleep on the living room couch and wake up in Logan’s bed, having no idea how you ended up there and never understanding where he actually slept.

Whenever he scored a goal, he pointed directly at you, every single time.

He sat way too close to you whenever you shared a booth at Malone's, paying entirely too much attention to you. Your legs pressed together, your shoulders brushing from the sheer proximity.

It was also part of the routine by now that you’d blush whenever he acted like a gentleman, or how you’d get goosebumps whenever he took care of you, the exact way you shivered whenever he got too close.

You accepted your fate. You were completely in love with John Logan. You also accepted that he didn't feel the same way.

He flirted shamelessly at parties, disappearing into bedrooms for hours. But that was the routine. You swallowed it down and pretended it didn't affect you. Until you stepped a little outside the lines.

One afternoon, after an exhausting class, with your car sitting in Logan’s garage to get the windshield fixed and him stuck at practice, your routine was finally interrupted.

X X X

His name was Jason, he was in your class. He was handsome, with blonde curls that hit his shoulders, and he always dressed entirely in black.

You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get home and sleep for hours. Since you didn't have your car, you were going to have to walk. Jason offered you a ride. You accepted. The two of you talked and laughed all the way to the door of your building. You thanked him, and he asked you out for coffee the following afternoon. You said yes and stepped out of the car with a smile.

It was a nice change of pace, forgetting for a single day the feeling of Logan’s hand resting on your thigh while he drove you home after class. Forgetting how intently and curiously he watched you while you talked about your day. What he smelled like when you leaned in and kissed his cheek to thank him for the ride, how warm you felt the second you entered his personal space.

Except, you didn't forget. A single ride from Jason wasn't anywhere near enough.

But it was a nice change of pace.

X X X

The next day, the routine resumed. Hearing the knock on the door, you rushed to open it, coming face-to-face with a damp-haired Logan holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a tray with two coffees in the other.

"Let’s go, this is burning my hand," he said, kissing your cheek before you could even answer.

He shoved the paper bag into your hands and slung your tote bag over his own shoulder, already walking away. You stood there for a few seconds, just staring at him. You couldn't recover fast enough from the lingering warmth of his lips on your face, his wet hair pushed back, the determined look on his face as he took your bag. You only reacted when he called your name from the end of the hallway; only then did you lock your door and jog after him.

"Sorry about yesterday. Jensen held us late," he said as he tossed your bag into the backseat of his car.

When he turned around to hand you your coffee, you were already deep in his orbit, observing him from right up close. It was part of the routine.

He looked at you with a smirk, watching you take a sip of the coffee.

"There we go. You're forgiven," you replied, walking around to get into the car. "Everything worked out anyway. A guy from my class brought me home." As you spoke, he opened the car door for you.

Logan froze completely, staring down at you the second he heard that. He stood there with the door wide open while you settled into his passenger seat.

"Who?" he asked, his tone sharp with curiosity.

"Jason," you answered simply. Logan kept standing there, glaring at you, his mouth pressed into a tight line. "He even asked me out for coffee today, which was a surprise. I figured he’d never want to see me again after I babbled the entire way here," you laughed.

Only then did you look up at him, just standing there. Only then did he seem to snap out of it. He slammed your door shut and got into the driver's seat in absolute silence. You watched him curiously as you sipped your coffee. It took a few minutes before Logan spoke again.

"And are you going?" his voice sounded incredibly strained.

"Where?"

"To get coffee with this Jacob guy."

"Jason. And yeah, I think so."

Logan fell silent again. It was only when you arrived at your classroom building that he looked at you again. Well, stared at you, more like.

"Are you okay?" You placed your hand over his on the gear shift.

His gaze flicked down to your joined hands, then snapped right back to your eyes. You watched his mouth open, close, and then open again. You saw his eyes drop to your lips for a split second. You saw all of it. Oh.

"Let me know when your class is over," he said simply.

"Okay," you replied in a whisper, your chest tightening.

That look was just part of the routine, and it didn't mean a thing.

Logan leaned in toward you, and you caught your breath. His hand cupped the side of your face, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. More than anything, you wished it had been two inches to the left. So close. His hand slid away from you, and he turned back to the steering wheel.

You spent a few seconds staring at him, letting out a quiet sigh. To cover it up, you turned to leave.

"See you later!" you forced an enthusiastic tone into your voice as you got out and grabbed your bag from the backseat.

When you walked up the steps to the building, you looked back. He was already gone.

X X X

johnny boy

hey

i might be sick

tucker said i have a fever

you

what?

im coming over

weren't you fine this morning?

johnny boy

yeah, dunno what happened

didnt you have a date planned?

you

not a date

and youre more important

be there in 10

johnny boy

love you

The sheer effortless ease with which these things happened made your chest ache, and you had to take a few deep breaths before starting your car.

When you arrived at the guys' house, Logan was in the living room playing video games with Tucker. You paused in the doorway, looking back and forth between the two of them in utter confusion. Logan was laughing with his friend, looking perfectly healthy.

"Hey," you said, stepping into the house with a highly suspicious expression.

"Oh, hey beautiful," Logan greeted you.

"'Sup," Tucker muttered quickly, his eyes glued to the TV.

"Weren't you like... dying?" you asked, walking over to the couch.

Logan looked up at you with a faint smile, and one of his hands hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging you down to sit right next to him on the sofa. You stared at him in utter shock. He looked back at you for another second, wearing the textbook expression of someone who had just been caught red-handed.

"John Logan," you called out firmly.

He didn't look at you. You watched Tucker glance at him before standing up and setting his controller down on the coffee table.

"I'll go whip up some soup," he said, his voice entirely devoid of enthusiasm.

You called Logan’s name again. He dropped his controller right next to Tucker’s and leaned back against the sofa, slinging one arm over the back of the cushions right behind your head.

"Did you just fake being sick so I would miss my date?" you asked, still staring at him, shell-shocked.

"You said it wasn't a date," he finally countered, locking his eyes onto yours.

"Logan—" You tried to stand up, but his hand gripped your waist, pulling you right back down.

He didn't say a single word; he just stared at you.

"What were you thinking?" The real issue was that you couldn't actually stay mad at him. Not when he was looking at you like that. With his hand still anchored to your waist.

"I don't know. Sorry." Only then did he break eye contact, his fingers running through his hair.

You wanted to go off-script. You wanted to move closer, to force him to look at you. To force him to touch you. You wanted to ask if he was jealous. You wanted to shatter the routine entirely.

Before you could gather the courage, Garrett and Hannah walked through the front door.

Logan looked over at them, greeting them with a smile. You kept staring at him for a few more seconds. You took in his smile, his hair, his subtle stubble. His eyes. You looked down at his hand, still resting on your waist. Enough.

You stood up abruptly, greeted Garrett with a smile, and grabbed Hannah by the hand, dragging her right back out of the house.

"Hey, what happened?" she asked, letting herself be led all the way to your car.

"Can you keep a secret?" you blurted out without thinking.

"Yes, of course," Hannah nodded, stepping closer with a worried look.

"I'm in love with Logan," you practically groaned the words.

Hannah laughed. She literally laughed out loud. You stood there staring at her, having a total crisis.

"Everyone knows that," she finally said.

"What? How?"

"How? You spend half your time staring at each other and touching each other. What do you mean how does everyone know?"

That completely shut you up. You opened your mouth to speak a few times, but nothing came out.

"Why are you confessing this to me now? Did something happen?" Hannah asked gently.

"I had a date today, and Logan texted me saying he was sick, so I came over and he's completely fine. He faked it just so I'd miss my date."

Hannah raised her eyebrows. "You two will do literally anything but confess to each other."

"Logan has nothing to confess. He just likes to torture me and keep me all to himself," you began pacing back and forth, glancing every now and then at the living room window. "I can't keep fucking doing this, Wellsy, following this routine. He does whatever he wants to me like it has zero effect on me, and it's driving me crazy."

"Then drive him crazy," Hannah suggested, a mischievous smirk spreading across her face.

You stopped dead in your tracks and stared at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Make it so he's the one going crazy. He likes you, everyone knows that except him. Make it so hard on him that he has no choice but to give in," she said wickedly.

"Why do I feel like you've already thought about this?" you muttered.

"Oh, Allie and I have already spent hours talking about this."

"Wait, what?"

"We already have this whole plan mapped out."