Chapter Nine

I’m not thrilled about the possibility of more embarrassment, especially after my last conversation with Logan, but I agree to have Grandma pick me up from school on Monday.

“Are you sure it’s safe for her to be driving?” I asked at the dinner table the night before. Andrew was at a late practice, so it was just Mom, Dad, and me. “I was worried she might plow over a freshman the last time she dropped me off.”

“She’ll be driving twenty miles an hour around town,” Mom replied. “She’ll be okay for that distance.”

“You don’t understand how much it means to her. It’ll make her whole day,” Dad added.

“And you don’t understand how embarrassing it is when she leans out the window and yells at random kids.”

He chuckles. “True. Could you just let her pick you up every once in a while?”

And here we are. I climb into Grandma’s car, which smells like her floral perfume, and she smiles over at me.

“How’s it going? You look tired.”

“It’s going,” I reply.

I don’t exactly want to burden her with my problems, but I’m exhausted and stressed. Switching schools in the middle of the year is hard. None of the classes match exactly with my old ones, so I’m either behind or have already covered the same material. This is week two here, but I still feel disoriented in the school and classrooms—I keep expecting to turn the corner and be back at my old building—and I severely underestimated how difficult it would be to connect with people in my classes. No one is rude or anything; they’re just…apathetic. Their eyes seem to pass right through me like I’m not even there. Thank god for Kashvi, Sloane, and the D&D game, though I wish my class schedule lined up better with theirs. I don’t even have the same lunch as them.

Grandma purses her lips and takes me in. “Today is an ice cream day.”

“What? It’s forty-five degrees out.”

“As if temperature has anything to do with it. Some days call for ice cream and this is one of them.” She puts the car in reverse before I even have my seat belt buckled and then we’re flying out of the parking lot. So much for twenty miles per hour.

Soon she’s pulling into a local shop I’ve never been to before. I don’t know my way around the town yet. The inside is super cute with a teal-and-white-checkered floor, pink walls, and a mural of ice cream scoop mountains and strawberry syrup rivers.

“What’s your favorite flavor?” she asks.

“Peach,” I say immediately. “But that’s out of season. So…probably Buckeye.”

“Just like your father,” she says. “The boy never knew a jar of peanut butter he didn’t like.”

“What about you?” I glance toward the menu above the counter. Instead, my gaze falls directly on Logan.

I jolt as if the floor were electrified. He’s standing behind the counter, wearing a pink polo shirt and a pink visor with ice cream cones embroidered on both. And his name tag reads: Logan. My favorite flavor is mint chocolate chip!

He stares back at me until Grandma exclaims, “The boy who took our picture!”

He smiles at her. “This is a surprise. Did you come in for more pictures?”

“We came in for ice cream. This one had a hard day.”

He tilts his head at me. “Oh, yeah?”

My cheeks heat and I wave away Grandma’s words and his concern. “No, it was fine. I’m just milking her for free food.”

Logan laughs and Grandma swipes at me with her left hand. “You!” She turns to Logan. “Give me the orange sherbet.”

“And I’ll take a scoop of Buckeye in a cup,” I tell him.

He nods and gets to work. It’s so weird to see him in this context, although I guess that isn’t really fair. I don’t know anything about him other than he goes to my school and plays D&D. But still, I would never have expected to find him wearing a pink visor and scooping ice cream.

Grandma insists on paying and then points to Logan. “You should take your break so you can sit with us.”

“Oh, um…” He looks around uncomfortably. “I just got here. I can’t take—”

“Excuse me?” Grandma calls to the man lingering toward the back who is clearly the manager. “Can you let this young man have a few minutes of break? He’s a dear friend and I’d love to catch up with him.”

“Grandma!” I hiss. The heat of my embarrassment is going to melt my ice cream into soup. No wonder Andrew never wants to hang out with Grandma. He has more self-preservation than me.

“Uh, well…,” the manager says.

Grandma gives him a coy smile. I bet she was charming (or some might say conniving) in her day. “It’s quiet. I’m sure you can spare him for a few minutes. I do love coming here for ice cream. Best in the county!”

The man shrugs. “Yeah, all right. Go ahead, Logan.”

Logan cuts a quick glance at me and follows us to a small table in the back corner.

“How’d you like that?” she asks in triumph.

“You’re a miracle worker,” Logan whispers. “Mr.Avery is a stickler about breaks and lunchtimes.”

“I’ve always had a way with men. Under the right circumstances, I could have one eating out of my hand in twenty minutes flat.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Sometimes literally.”

I cough into my ice cream and drop my eyes to the table rather than see Logan’s (probably horrified) expression. He’s occupied more of my thoughts over the last few days than I’d like to admit, but this is not how I envisioned seeing him again. That moment in his truck has been on repeat in my mind. Has he been thinking about me as well?

“So, you’re feeling better now?” Logan asks me.

“What’s this?” Grandma asks.

“Quinn’s ear infection. She could barely keep herself upright the last time I saw her.”

“Infection!” Grandma cries, and puts her spoon down. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Heat races up my neck and face. I really hoped he’d forgotten about that. “No, Grandma, everything’s fine. I’m not sick.” I glance at Logan. “It was a false alarm. I’m fine now.”

He cocks his head. “A false alarm, huh?” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “Interesting.”

My cheeks get even hotter. It’s possible he’s realizing I was a big lying liar the last time I saw him.

Grandma hoots and waves at someone across the ice cream parlor. “Cheryl!” She turns to us. “That’s my hairdresser. I’ll be right back!”

She hurries off and we sit in silence across from each other. Of course Grandma immediately ran into someone she knows and abandons me. I poke at my ice cream awkwardly.

“Is it good?” he asks.

“Yeah, lots of peanut butter.” I lick my spoon and his eyes track the movement. My pulse leaps in response. I’m not remotely prepared to be alone with Logan this afternoon, especially when I can’t figure out if he wants to kiss me, kick me out of D&D, or both. I search my mind for a neutral topic to bring up.

“So, uh, do you work here a lot?”

“Only a few days a week—usually Thursdays and Sundays and then I pick up extra shifts when they need me. My parents need help at home, but they also like me to have a job. Dad thinks I spend too much time holed up alone.”

“Should I ask what you’re doing alone in your room all night, or do I not want to know?”

His laugh echoes loudly in the small space. “Actually, it’s a little shed I converted into a space for myself, not my bedroom. And I’m usually working on D&D campaigns or reading.”

“So you say.” I take a small bite. “Why are you working on campaigns? Do you DM for a different group?”

“No, but I like thinking up new character builds and storylines.”

“That sounds intimidating. I don’t know how Sloane does it.”

“I have some notebooks with ideas, but they need work. It’s all pretty generic right now.”

“Notebooks? Plural? Why haven’t I heard about this at the game?”

He shrugs. “I don’t really talk about it.”

“But…you’re talking about it now.”

“Yes.” He messes with a napkin lying on the table. “You seem to have that effect on me.”

Just then Grandma comes back to our table, startling me. “What did I miss?” she asks. “Everything good?”

“Yep.”

Grandma points her finger between the two of us. “So, you two are friends now?”

“We play in a D&D game together,” I say quickly before she can get other ideas.

“That always did sound fun. I’m sorry I never got involved with it. When I was younger, everyone was going on about it being witchcraft or the devil’s work, but I knew that was nonsense. Are you having a good time playing?”

Logan and I look at each other and then away. “Mmm-hmm,” I say. “It’s been fun.”

Logan plays with the napkin on the table.

“I see. Sounds very fun.” Her sarcasm is thicker than this ice cream, and I swear she’s smarter than most of the people I know. Her body might be starting to fail her, but her mind definitely is not.

“What else do you do to keep busy when you aren’t playing games with my granddaughter or serving fabulous ice cream?”

“Uh…I mean, homework, unfortunately. And I help out with my parents’ farm and Dad’s business when he needsme.”

“He owns a business in town? What’s his name?”

“Chuck Weber. He’s kind of a jack-of-all-trades. Handyman, trash removal, plus—”

“ Chuck? Oh, you don’t need to tell me about him!” she replies. “He’s been out to my house more times than I can count to try to keep the pipes and wires from disintegrating. You’re Chuck’s son?”

“I am,” he replies, and rubs the back of his neck. Grandma isn’t trying to modulate her voice, so the whole parlor can probably hear this exchange.

“Well, isn’t that the wildest thing.” She shakes her head in amazement. “And you don’t do any other extracurriculars? Sports, band, something like that?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “No, D&D is about it.”

“You and Quinn have that in common, then. Her parents can’t get her to do much else.”

Logan and I glance at each other and there’s a spark of recognition. Maybe we have more in common than I realized. And this could be another explanation for why he seemed so protective about the game and unsure about accepting me as a new player. Maybe this really wasn’t about the dating rule at all—maybe he just wanted to make sure his favorite activity went smoothly.

“I think it’s good to follow your passions in life,” Grandma continues. “Focus on what brings you happiness.”

I nod and focus all my energy on my ice cream, which is bringing me simple happiness, mostly because each mouthful is a great excuse to not talk.

“I bet you’re pretty strong between all this ice cream scooping and helping out your dad,” Grandma continues.

I cringe. This conversation is getting more uncomfortable by the nanosecond. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already noticed the same thing, but there’s no way I’m looking anywhere but my ice cream.

“Sure?” he replies.

“Perfect. Tell Chuck that his favorite client, Barbara, needs you to help get some boxes out of the attic.”

I jerk my head up. “What?” I turn to Logan. “No, you don’t have to do that. I can help, plus Dad and Andrew can come over if there are things to move.”

“Nonsense. Andrew is always busy, and your dad isn’t as young as you think he is. His back is bothering him even though he doesn’t like to admit it.” She leans toward Logan. “You can come by, right?”

“Well…um…yeah, I probably could. If you need me.”

“I do. You’re a lifesaver. With a dad like yours, I know you’ll be a big help.” She grins widely and I know she’s up to something. “And you’ll need to come, too, my dear.” She pats the top of my hand.

I slump with the realization. She’s trying to set us up. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Logan pulls out his phone and looks at the time. “I should probably get back. I can feel Mr.Avery’s glare burning through my back.”

“Come Wednesday. My usual pickleball game is canceled.”

“Will do.” He glances at me. “I guess I’ll see you then, Quinn?”

“Um, I guess so.”

I wait until he’s behind the counter with his back turned before swiveling to face her. “ What are you doing? Why did you just invite him to your house?”

“For you, of course.” She takes a last bite of her sherbet, looking incredibly pleased with herself. “This really is great sherbet.”

“For me ? I’m not looking for excuses to see Logan.”

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t.”

I glare at her.

“He seems like a nice boy—much better than those rude ones in the parking lot. And his best quality is that he likes you. I could tell the moment he saw you walk into the store.”

“I don’t want to date Logan. He’s too unpredictable. One minute he seems to like me, the next he wants nothing to do with me. Not that I’ve thought seriously about the idea.”

“Oh no, of course not,” she says, and readjusts her rose-covered silk scarf. “If you don’t like him, then fine. You can go through some boxes and that will be that. I just thought having a date might be nice since you’re at a new school and still getting to know people. I will say, there’s something about him that reminds me of your grandfather. He was so nervous around me that he avoided me for two months before I cornered him in the hallway and asked him to the movies.”

I snort. She and Grandpa are nothing like this situation with Logan. And now I’m going to be stuck in Grandma’s dusty attic with him.

“Why did you ask him to move boxes of all things? I’ve never heard you talk about the attic.”

“I know what your father and mother are up to. They talked to me about moving.”

“Oh.” I’ve been scared to bring it up. “So…you’re doing it? You’re starting to pack up?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve lived in that house for a quarter century and the only way I’m leaving is in a body bag.”

My eyes fly open at the horrible image.

“But I can see your father’s point about downsizing. I shouldn’t leave you all with so much to clean out after I’m gone, so I thought I’d start pitching stuff and reorganizing. And now you and Logan can help me.”

Aren’t I lucky? I shove another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth rather than respond. Between her talking about body bags and setting me up on unwanted dates, Grandma really knows how to make a girl feel better after a long day.