Logan pulled me closer, tucking me into his side.
“You were scared, and you found a way to cope,” he said, leaning into me as we walked down the hall.
“Being numb isn’t the same as being brave, and I’m getting credit for the wrong thing.” I rubbed my face with my hands. “Ah, I don’t know. I’m probably not making any sense.”
Logan regarded me silently for a moment before nodding his head, agreeing with whatever decision he’d made.
“Come with me,” he ordered, grabbing my hand and directing me back the way we’d come, weaving against the flow of exiting students as he led me to the auditorium. He opened the door and peeked inside, looking at me with a giddy smile on his face.
“What’s up? Are you thinking of joining the Drama Club?”
“Not exactly,” he said, leading me into the darkened theater. The stage was bare, save for the backdrop of a forest at dusk for the recent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Logan led me through the seats, stopping briefly at the lighting board to flip a few switches. Tiny lights pierced the background on the stage, slowly twinkling on and off.
“Who knew Holy Ass had such high production values?” I stared in awe at the enchanting set. Logan hit one more button, and turned a few knobs, and the faint strains of classical music filled the air.
“I don’t know what this is, but it’s pretty,” I said, resting my forearms on the front of the lighting board as I watched Logan work.
“It sounds familiar,” Logan admitted, and I cocked an eyebrow.
“Are you secretly a connoisseur of classical music?” I asked, sliding off my backpack and setting it on a nearby seat.
“No, but I’ve seen a lot of car commercials,” he said, laughing. “Nothing sells a sports car like some old dead guy banging away on a piano.”
“So, why are we in here?” I tapped my hands on the ledge, but Logan merely replied with a cryptic smile.
He stepped away from the lighting board and took my hand again, leading me up the aisle to the front of the stage.
“Logan? What’s going on?”
“Get on stage,” he said, grabbing me by my hips and effortlessly lifting me up so I was sitting on the front of the stage. I scrambled to my feet as Logan gestured for me to take a few steps back before running to the front and leaping, bracing his palm against the boards as he effortlessly vaulted his body on the stage.
Damn, that’s hot.
Logan tossed his hat to the side, running his hands through his hair in an effort to tame it before holding his right hand out to me and bowing.
“Dance with me?” he asked sweetly, tilting his head up, the twinkle lights reflecting in his warm brown eyes.
“Here?”
“Are you going to take my hand and dance with me or what?”
He wiggled his fingers at me, and I placed my hand in his outstretched palm. Logan quickly tightened his grip and spun me into him, my back hitting his chest with a thud. He held me tightly as we began to sway slowly to the music.
“You said you would never go to a school dance,” he whispered in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “Well, you’re now dancing in a school. So technically, this is a school dance. And I think this is a lot nicer than dancing around some balloons in a gym, don’t you?”
I nodded, squeezing his hands as I snuggled back against his chest.
“Especially right now. The wrestling team is in the gym. Slow dancing to the soundtrack of their grunts might be a mood killer,” Logan said, taking my hand and spinning me once, so I faced him. Well, more like I face-planted into his chest with a thud, and I stepped back, rubbing my nose.
“Sorry, I guess I don’t have any fancy moves down,” Logan apologized, and I clasped my hands around his neck as his hands settled on my hips.
“I don’t need them.” We swayed for a bit, until the song ended—and then continued dancing without music, slowly moving around the stage.
“So, can I ask you a question?” I gave Logan a hopeful smile, and he groaned.
“Oh, no, you’re asking. That means it’s gotta be bad.” He took my hand and spun me away from him. I twirled back, landing against him with a thud again, and we both laughed.
“No way, buddy. You’re not going to distract me with these sensual, smooth dance moves.”
“But they’re the sensual-est and the smoothest. Watch this,” he teased, turning me and trying to dip me. Instead, we ended up with my back against his chest as he held my hand over my shoulder, attempting to dip me backward.
“This isn’t right,” he muttered. “It looks easier in the movies.”
I spun around and placed my hands around his neck again.
“So my question....”
“Yes, dear?” Logan asked with a resigned sigh.
“What was Travis talking about with the douchebag brigade?”
Logan bristled, and we stopped swaying for a moment.
“Please?” I asked, and Logan relented.
“They talk about the girls in school.”
“And?” I prompted, and Logan gritted his teeth.
“And they rate them on their, uh, presumed skill set. When your name came up—” Logan paused, shutting his eyes and tensing as he recalled whatever they said about me “—I couldn’t stand by quietly. I told them to stop.”
“And they listened?”
“Well, I may have driven my point home by knocking one of Vogel’s friends on his ass. Oops,” he said with a self-satisfied grin.
“Sounds like he deserved it,” I murmured, and we began swaying again.
“Oh, he did,” Logan said, kissing me on the top of my head. “There was some bullshit bro talk after, like ‘Sorry, bro, didn’t realize you guys were together.’ They stopped talking about you, but every girl they talk about is important to someone. So I just said something about learning to have respect for women and to stop talking about all the girls like that.”
“You just said?” I repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s all it took?”
“Well, it helps when you’re really good at blocking a punch.” Logan shrugged, spinning me again, this time more smoothly. “I mean, these guys aren’t exactly assassins, so it wasn’t hard to thwart their lame attempts at fighting. I never had a rep at a school before. I think they’re all afraid of me.” He raised his shoulders, giving me a guilty smile.
“Someone has the hot bad boy with a heart of gold image down.”
“I’m clearly better at that than I am at dancing.”
I rested my hand against his cheek.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I whispered. Logan stiffened, his face tense.
“Are you mad?”
“Mad? You took on a locker room full of guys to defend my and every other girl’s honor. I’m a second away from falling to the ground and swooning. I’m talking legit romance movie swoonage.”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” he said, turning his head to kiss the palm of my hand.
“It’s a very big deal,” I replied softly. “Why are you so perfect sometimes?”
“I’m not.” Logan took my hand from where it rested against his cheek, lacing our fingers together. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes downcast.
“I want to be worthy of you, but I’m not perfect. Paige, I’m so far from it.”
His voice was heartbreakingly sad, causing my chest to ache.
“What are you talking about? Logan, you’re the best person I’ve ever met,” I insisted, squeezing his hand. “You’re the only one who knows the real me.”
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I have to tell you something.” His voice trembled as he gripped my hands, as if he were trying to keep me rooted to my spot. As if I were going anywhere.