Up In Flames by Nicole Williams Page A

pulled a Saran wrapped plate of sandwiches from the fridge and placed it on the counter.
    “No, thanks,” I said, hovering in the doorway. I half expected the house to know what I’d done last night and who I’d been doing it with. I was almost holding my breath, waiting for it to reject me.
    “Where are your dad and mom?” I asked. Usually one of them was always here, which made private time with my boyfriend hard to achieve. I guessed this had been part of their plan.
    “Mom’s setting up for the big church potluck tomorrow and Dad’s getting a head start tagging the calves,” Logan said, focused on piling a mound of chips around his sandwich. I swear Logan ate enough food to keep four men in working order. “Why don’t you put a movie in? Girl’s choice.” He threw me a quick wink before heaping another handful of chips on his plate.
    I studied Logan for a few moments, something I hadn’t done in a long time. He was handsome in that classical, Kennedy kind of way. He was a bit taller, but not as built. His eyes were lighter in color and, when they gleamed, it wasn’t with knowing or spine-tingling expectation. Logan’s hair was blond, golden specifically. The irony was not lost on me. It was a good couple inches shorter, and his skin was a few shades paler than . . .
    Cole.
    I was comparing Logan to Cole. In his own house while he offered to make me some lunch. And Logan was losing this comparison.
    It wasn’t fair.
    Pushing aside all thoughts of Cole, I made myself smile.
    “You’re going to regret that,” I said, trying to sound playful. I wasn’t quite up to that task.
    Logan chuckled as he cracked open a soda. “Just please, I’m begging you, not ‘The Notebook,’” he said. “I’ll poke my eyes out for sure this time if I have to watch that girl get it on with two guys and complain about how terrible her life is.” He drew his index finger across his neck.
    He knew. I was going to puke.
    No, wait. He was grinning now, stacking the leaning tower of potato chips. He didn’t know anything; the movie reference was just a dagger-driving-into-my-heart coincidence.
    “No. Definitely not ‘The Notebook,’” I said as I headed into the living room. I loved the movie, or I had loved the movie, but I’d been on the same page with Logan. I could never feel sorry for poor little rich Allie, having to choose between two gorgeous men who worshipped her. Some people’s lives must really suck.
    My opinions on Allie Hamilton the two-timer had changed in twenty-four hours’ time. She had a tough time deciding between her first love and her fiancee; I had a tough time deciding between my boyfriend and a guy I’d known all of a week.
    Not that I had a decision to make anyways. I’d probably never see Cole again, unless in passing. I didn’t have a Noah Calhoun waiting for me if I broke it off with the man I was supposed to spend my life with.
    I almost had to slap my cheeks to stop that train of thought.
    Instead of plopping down on the couch in front of the TV, I headed up the stairs towards Logan’s room. He had a small TV and movie collection in his room, and since his parents didn’t let us hang out in there together when they were home, I walked right into his room and crashed down on his bed.
    Logan’s room was a lot like him: comfortable, warm, and a tad boring. He still had the same sports ball wallpaper border he’d gotten in grade school running along the ceiling, the same twin sized bed, and the same trophy shelves hanging above his dresser, though the number of trophies had grown over the years. Other than the few pictures of Logan and me at our senior year dances and his pair of work boots, I could have been walking into the eight year old Logan’s room.
    Change wasn’t encouraged here in the Matthews family.
    I was starting to suffocate again.
    “Hey.” Logan stood in the doorway, his overflowing plate in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. He looked uncomfortable.
    He