Just a Bit Wrecked (Straight Guys #11) - Alessandra Hazard Page 0,30

too much of a lie.

Logan made an irritated noise. “Then why did you want my number?”

Andrew said nothing to that, turning onto his stomach and hugging his pillow. “Don’t hang up,” he ordered. Pleaded.

God, he’d never felt so pathetic.

There was silence on the line.

“I won’t,” Logan said at last.

Andrew breathed out, relaxing a little.

He didn’t even notice falling asleep.

Chapter 15

The hangover the next morning wasn’t as bad as the ball of humiliation that had settled in Andrew’s stomach ever since he’d woken up. Fuck, had he really gotten drunk enough to go look for Logan? Like some kind of pathetic stalker? Ugh. And then he’d basically begged Logan not to hang up on him. Double ugh.

“Stupid,” Andrew whispered, staring at the ceiling of the room.

The room in Logan’s hotel. Just great.

If life could give him one blessing, he would have forgotten what happened last night, but nope, he remembered the mortifying phone conversation with perfect clarity. It figured.

He considered getting up and going to the office, but it wasn’t like he was needed there. He wasn’t needed anywhere.

The thought just made him feel sorrier for himself, and he hated it, hated feeling so weak and pathetic. He refused to be that pathetic.

Andrew forced himself to get out of bed, take a shower, and go outside. He might not be needed anywhere, but it didn’t mean he should let himself sink into a well of depression. He should at least take a walk, be around other people, and hopefully become a functional human being instead of a… whatever mess he was now.

It was easier said than done.

The longer he spent outside, around all the noise, around all those people, the more anxious he became. He hadn’t known it was possible to feel so alone on a busy street, but apparently it was. No, “alone” was the wrong word. He felt like he was some kind of alien from another planet, like he couldn’t connect to all these people at all. He couldn’t understand them, he didn’t want to be around them, and the more he stayed around them, the harder his heart beat, his anxiety rising and transforming into a panic.

He returned to his hotel room, feeling mentally wrung out and physically shaky. He plopped down onto the bed and dropped his head into his hands, feeling defeated and freaked out.

What was wrong with him? Had he developed some kind of agoraphobia? He didn’t… He didn’t think so. The thought of being outside didn’t really make him anxious. He just didn’t like all the noise and people and—it was too much. God, the island had really fucked him up, hadn’t it?

A knock on the door made him lift his head.

“Enter,” he said listlessly. It was likely a maid wanting to clean the room.

It wasn’t a maid.

It was Logan.

It felt like everything stopped, the world coming to an abrupt halt.

Andrew stared at him, wide-eyed, his mouth going slack.

Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud-thud, his heart beat in his chest, as though trying to escape it.

Logan closed the door, leaned back against it, and stared back, his dark eyes bottomless.

Andrew had to grip the bedspread in his fists to stop himself from doing something stupid. Something stupid like launching himself at Logan and clinging to him like a monkey.

“What are you doing here?” Andrew managed, glaring. At least he hoped he was glaring and not staring at him hungrily.

Logan raised his eyebrows, his inscrutable expression contradicting the stiff, tightly coiled tension in his body. He looked like he’d put on some weight. He looked good. Definitely more put together than Andrew was feeling. But then again, it wasn’t a high bar to clear.

“This is my hotel,” Logan said. “And you were the one who came here looking for me.”

Andrew felt blood rush to his face. “I thought you were in New York.”

Some emotion flashed across Logan’s face and then it was gone, too quickly for Andrew to recognize it.

“I was,” he said curtly.

Andrew moistened his lips with his tongue, unsure.

Silence fell between them, charged with something terribly familiar. It felt awful but also incredibly comforting. Easy.

To his utter disgust, Andrew felt more like himself than he had in weeks. The restless, maddening anxiety under his skin—the sense of wrongness—was almost entirely gone. He just looked at Logan, and everything felt right with the world. But he’s still too far—need him closer—why is he so far away—

Andrew clutched the bedspread tighter. Fuck, if he could bleach his own brain, he would. Seriously, what was wrong with him?

“Maybe