How To Evict a Hot Jock in Three Weeks - Anyta Sunday Page 0,12
minutes later, floorboards creaked. Alexander pulled the book from his face, pretending to read. In his peripheral vision, he saw Logan standing at his door.
After another minute, Alexander couldn’t take it anymore. He set the book on his lap. “Why are you peering into my room?”
“I wasn’t peering. I was lurking. Besides, you left your door open.” Logan waltzed in and sat at his feet, grinning. He took in the white-themed everything. The clean canvas waiting for its artist to be brave.
“I never shut my door.” Alexander shivered. He needed it open like little boys needed nightlights.
Logan didn’t pry. Instead he patted his foot, fingers lingering. “Why’d you run up here?”
“To read.”
Logan spotted the cake and faced him in disbelief. His gaze flickered to Alexander’s upside-down book. “You always spend your evenings reading?”
“And?”
“It’s nine p.m. On your birthday.”
“Yes . . . well . . . Don’t you have some insomnia to work on?”
“You’ve noticed?”
He had. Last night he’d spied Logan watching infomercials on mute in the lounge. “I don’t sleep well either.”
Logan cocked his head, and Alexander cleared his throat. “Why were you lurking?”
“I’m bored, and there won’t be nothin’ decent on TV.”
Alexander shrugged. “There’s your favorite bar down the road. Filled with beefy guys and your fellow disappointed MAGA men. Go have a blast for the night.”
Horror flickered over Logan’s face before he schooled it. Something did not add up.
“Clash?” Logan said.
“You know it.” Alexander waved him merrily toward the door. “Have fun.”
Logan disappeared, and Alexander lay back and closed his eyes, breathing in Logan’s lingering herby cologne . . . that lonesome quiet . . .
Nico’s words swam to his mind. You don’t do anything that surprises you.
Well. His reaction to Logan was surprising. Did that count as growth? Or did he have to do something to prove he could change?
Would every birthday end up like this? No friends, no partner, in bed by nine?
Light material hit his chest. His eyes popped open to Logan looming over him, intensely determined.
Alexander sat up, clutching the jacket Logan had tossed onto him.
Logan had changed into a pair of snug-fitting jeans, a flannel shirt, and a baseball cap. “Nothing would thrill me more than us going out,” he said, a dirty smirk plastered on his face.
“Us going out,” Alexander repeated slowly.
“To this bar. I don’t wanna be alone.”
Alexander squeaked over the disturbing leap in his chest. “Well, maybe I do.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?” Alexander folded his arms.
Logan leaned down, eyes in line with Alexander’s. “Let’s make this a party to remember.”
“Fairly sure I won’t forget how it went. Or how it tasted.”
Logan froze. “Uh huh. I reckoned so.”
In three strides, Logan stood at his cake, fork in hand.
Alexander leaped off the bed, jamming his arms into the jacket. “Okay, I’m coming with you. Don’t eat my cake—”
Logan spat a mouthful out. “You swallowed that?”
Chapter Nine
LOGAN
* * *
Logan’s stomach wouldn’t stop twisting. Alexander had chosen his pathetic, salty cake and pretended to love it.
Dragging into Clash, his stomach cinched again.
Logan had spent the last two nights analyzing every memory to figure out if he’d ever felt this depth of attraction. A few women had given him a spark, but it rarely continued into the bedroom. Nope, he’d never met a guy who made his skin tingle.
It was exhilarating and frightening. Logan wasn’t sure whether he was loathe to be evicted, or desperate for it.
Alexander eyed the dingy club suspiciously. “What’s so great about this place?”
Nothing.
Logan had never been here—and never would again. The grungy place was freaking him the fuck out. The leather clad, beer-chugging, scowling men had him sweating like an ox.
If only Alexander would freak out.
What insanity drove his tolerance?
Logan prayed they were left alone. Two drinks each—enough to convince Alexander this was his turf and he wasn’t shitting his pants—then they’d hurry back home.
“Hmm?” Alexander prompted.
Logan cleared his throat. What’s great about this place? “It has beer.”
“What kind of beer?”
“Cold beer. On tap. In tiny glasses.” Either they were tiny glasses, or those men were ginormous.
They picked their way toward the bar and Logan resisted settling a firm hand on the small of Alexander’s back and steering him safely through the drunken crowd. “Sounds delightful. I’ll have a white wine. Thank you.”
Logan’s brows shot up. “You want me to buy it for you?”
“It’s the least you could do.”
“We can always go someplace else?”
“No. This place screams Logan Stone.”
Logan swallowed his groan.
They reached a free bar stool, and Alexander’s brow creased. “Logan?”
“Yeah?”
Alexander let out a long breath and flagged