The weekend passed with little drama. There was a basketball game. I went. They won. There was a party. The only big event there was when Logan took my advice and planned on going home with a new girl, but she had a friend with the same hopes. The two got in a fight. It was full of name-calling. Someone’s hair got pulled and the other girl got scratched. Eventful. And Logan? He bypassed the fight and went home with Tate. I had an entire speech ready to deliver over breakfast the next day for why he needed to stop seeing her. I had it all memorized, but the speech died in my throat when Tate showed up at the same restaurant with a different guy.
Logan didn’t care. Really. I studied him the whole time to catch the slightest reaction—twitch, twerk, eye-roll—but nothing. Then it dawned on me.
