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summary: When your heater breaks during one of thr coldest days of the year, your brother's best friend insists on fixing it himself. Unfortunately, John Logan is annoyingly helpful, ridiculously handsome, and suddenly standing way too close in your very small apartment.
note: first real post! i’ve written SO many things and never posted them so I’m super nervous! if u have any tips or notes please lmk! enjoy!
(1.78k words)
The air was freezing. Your dorm’s heater was broken on one of the coldest days of the year. I mean, of course, right? Because when could a good thing ever happen to you?
You were currently walking up to the porch of your brother Garrett’s house so that you wouldn’t freeze to death in your apartment. You didn’t bother knocking once you made it to the door and just walked in. A normal person would probably be concerned that their sibling would get robbed due to the fact that this door’s never been locked, but that would be foolish. If anyone tried to rob the house, they’d be met by four buff-ass hockey players who definitely have some pent-up rage that needed to be set free.
When you walked in, you heard Logan and Dean before you saw them. Logan was sprawled across the couch, shouting about absolutely destroying Dean at whatever lame hockey video game they were playing while Tucker heckled them both from the kitchen.
“I pressed the button! Why the fuck didn’t it shoot?!” Dean yelled obnoxiously.
“You suck!” Tucker yelled back from the kitchen.
Logan threw his controller on the couch and stood, raising his arms in the air.
“That’s how it’s fucking done!” he said, banging one fist on his chest and looking at Dean, who looked like he was tweaking and threw a pillow at Logan’s head.
“My controller was broken. Rematch, dude,” Dean said, standing now too.
“Wow. You guys really are losers,” you spoke finally.
The boys’ heads snapped toward you, clearly surprised to hear your voice.
“Graham?” Logan and Tucker said at the same time. Tucker’s head poked out of the doorway to the kitchen with a grin.
“Finally, a female in the house,” Dean said with a smirk.
“I’m sorry?” you said, shooting Dean a glare and walking toward the couch.
“Hmm. Allow me to rephrase. Finally, a sexy princess in the house,” he corrected, somehow his smirk growing further.
You paused for a moment, thinking about it before speaking. “I’ll allow it.”
You nodded, dropping the glare and moving again to sit on the couch.
“So what’s up?” Logan said, turning to look at you and sitting back down.
“I’m crashing in this bitch,” you said, moving to lay down on the couch and rest your feet on top of Logan’s lap to get comfy. You felt him shift under your feet but he didn’t protest.
“Does Garrett know you’re here?” Tucker asked.
“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘P.’
Dean barked out a laugh. “So you’re squatting.”
“I’m not squatting. I’m temporarily relocating,” you replied, almost matter-of-factly.
“That’s squatting,” Logan said.
You rolled your eyes and settled further into the couch. “Whatever. My heater’s broken. It’s freezing in my apartment.”
“How freezing?” Logan asked.
“Like, I can see my breath when I wake up freezing.”
His brows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I can’t be a sexy princess in those conditions,” you huffed.
Dean winced. “Damn. So you’re not much of an Elsa girl?”
You grabbed a pillow next to you and chucked it at him. He dodged it with annoying ease.
“You wound me,” he said with a fake frown and a hand over his heart.
“I can fix it,” Logan suggested, shrugging.
A laugh escaped you. “Sure, you’re handy, but since when do you know how to fix heaters?”
“I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“Hey, you’d be surprised what the big guy can do,” Dean chimed in, patting Logan on the shoulder.
“Big guy can do a lot of things,” Tucker added, leaning in the doorway now.
Logan nodded in agreement, looking at you with a smug look on his face.
Your stomach flipped.
It doesn’t normally do that.
Especially not around Garrett’s friends.
Or specifically, his best friend.
“Let’s go, big guy,” you said with a grin.
Logan moved your feet off him, letting them fall to the floor, and stood up like he’d made a decision.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
You frowned slightly. “Wait, like right now?”
He grabbed his hoodie from the couch and pulled it over his head.
“Yeah. You said it’s freezing. I’m not letting you suffer because your building can’t function.”
“Aw, my hero,” you said dryly, standing too.
“Don’t make it weird,” he said, opening the front door.
“I wasn’t,” you lied immediately.
Tucker waved you off. “Please leave. Both of you.”
Dean winked. “Fix the heater, Romeo.”
Logan flipped them off without looking and followed you out the door.
—
The drive to your apartment felt a million times longer. Maybe it was because Logan insisted on driving, and so here you were in the passenger seat of your own car.
The drive was quiet, but not an awkward silence—just… peaceful.
You glanced over at him a couple of times subtly. Or so you thought.
“Do I have something on my face?” he said with a grin as he glanced over at you before looking back at the road.
“Arrogance,” you said, blush creeping onto your cheeks as you turned to look out the window.
“Ouch, straight to the ego,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I will crash this car.”
“It’s your car.”
“I will crash it.”
“I’m driving.”
“I can reach the wheel.”
“You’d injure yourself.”
“Worth it.”
He stayed quiet for a moment before you looked over at him and he let out a laugh.
Your stomach did that weird thing again.
“You’re stubborn,” he said, glancing over at you again for probably too long.
Stomach. Chill.
“I’ve been told.”
—
As soon as you entered your apartment, it felt much smaller than it really was. Maybe Logan was just big. Or maybe he was too close. Either way.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “It is cold here.”
“No shit. The heater is… uh, just over here,” you said, walking toward your heating unit, feeling embarrassed by your apartment for the first time ever.
You glanced back to see if he was following—which he was—just to see him looking all around your place, taking it in.
“Quit judging,” you said, hyperaware of its flaws.
“Not judging. Just looking,” he said, his eyes moving back to you as he spoke. “It’s very… you,” he added.
You didn’t say anything as your eyes met. There was a shift in the way he looked at you, but you couldn’t name it.
You spun around to look at your heater, and he cleared his throat.
“So, what seems to be the problem?”
“My heater’s not fucking heating,” you said, looking over at him with absolutely no faith. “Maybe I should’ve called someone—”
“Nope. Big guy’s on it!” he cut you off and stepped closer to the heater—and to you.
“Don’t refer to yourself as ‘big guy,’” you said, shutting your eyes in disappointment.
You heard his quiet laugh again.
“Okay, okay. Then go sit down and I’ll fix it.”
When you opened your eyes, the space between you felt smaller. You felt your face start to burn a little, and you turned around to walk away, hiding.
“You better not break it even more, Logan,” you called out as you walked toward your couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket and sitting down with a plop.
“Don’t worry, princess. You’ll be warm in no time,” he reassured you.
Your brain short-circuited.
—
Five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen. You were a little worried he couldn’t do it. Just as you stood up on your way to check on him, he stood and spoke triumphantly.
“Done,” he said, turning and locking eyes with you. “Come turn this thing on.”
“You’re that confident?” you asked skeptically.
“Oh, I’ve never been more confident in my life.”
“Liar.”
“Just come here,” he said softly.
Shit. The room already felt hotter despite the fact that the heater wasn’t back on yet.
You walked over and stood in front of him.
“Would you like to do the honours, ma’am?” he asked in a hushed tone as he leaned in. His eyes flicked to your hands for a second before he looked away again.
A shiver went down your spine.
“Ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head. You reached your hand over and turned it on.
All of a sudden, warm air came out of the heater, and your jaw dropped.
“How’d you do it?” you asked, absolutely astonished. You were still very aware of how close he was and the fact that he hadn’t moved back.
He shrugged. “Watched a video. Hit it a couple of times. Threatened it verbally.”
“You threatened my heater?”
“It responded.”
You stared at him.
He smiled a little. “What?”
“You’re insane.”
“Yeah, but you’re warm now.”
You couldn’t argue with that.
“How much should I pay you?” you asked, dropping your blanket and jogging toward your purse that was left by the door.
“Are you serious?” he asked, sounding genuinely offended.
“I’m not taking any money from you,” he added with a tone that sounded final.
“Are you sure? I have a twenty that’s calling your name,” you said, pausing with your unzipped wallet in your hands.
He just stared at you.
Silence stretched between you again, but it wasn’t awkward.
“Thank you,” you said as you put your wallet back and made your way back toward him.
His expression shifted just slightly at that.
“Yeah,” he said. “No problem.”
Neither of you moved.
The heater hummed quietly behind you, filling the apartment with warm air.
Logan shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
“Well,” he said.
“Well,” you echoed.
Neither of you sounded particularly eager to leave.
“You doubted me the entire time,” he accused.
“Because you watched one video.”
“And look where that got us.”
His eyes flicked past you toward the heater before returning to yours.
Warm. The apartment was warm, but your face was hot.
“Thank you,” you said again, quieter this time.
Something softened in his expression.
“Anytime.”
The word hung between you.
Anytime.
Not you’re welcome. Not sure.
Anytime.
Your heart stumbled.
For a second, neither of you looked away. Then his gaze dropped. Ever so slightly. To your mouth.
Your breath caught.
His jaw tightened immediately after, like he regretted it.
Or noticed he’d done it.
The room suddenly felt very, very small.
Logan took a step back.
“Okay,” he cleared his throat. “Now I’m definitely leaving before Dean starts texting me weird shit.”
