14. Josh

14

JOSH

I ’d been staring at the display in The Book Nook’s window for ten minutes, and I still couldn’t decide if Logan would think A Brief History of Time was too obvious a choice, even if this copy was a special edition hardcover. The guy had an entire shelf of physics books in his room. I’d noticed them while I was supposed to be paying attention to his deep dive into velocity the other night. Logan had swiftly jerked my focus back to him when he'd made an analogy to cum. Just seeing if you were paying attention , he’d said at my incredulous laugh.

I was pretty sure the Hawking title was among the books I’d glimpsed, though.

“Switching majors to physics?” I turned to find Mark standing behind me, an elaborately wrapped package tucked under his arm. He was a fellow Sigma who’d grown up in Silver Ridge. His dad was not only the mayor, but also a financial bigwig. They were the kind of rich I’d never be, and also didn’t particularly care to be. Mark always seemed stressed. No thanks.

“God no.” I laughed, shoving my hands in my pockets against the cold. “Christmas shopping.”

“Cutting it close, huh?” He shifted the package he was holding and I caught a glimpse of expensive looking paper with glittery embossing.

“Yeah, well, not all of us are as organized as you apparently are.” I nodded toward his package. “That’s fancy.”

A shadow passed over his expression. “It’s nothing. Just… for my mom. She’s been having a rough time lately, so…” He trailed off, exhaustion briefly cracking through his usual composed facade. Then he straightened his shoulders, like he’d caught himself sharing too much. “Anyway, the wrapping lady at Morrison’s did it.”

Something about the way he said it—like maybe he’d spent too long picking out both gift and paper, hoping to make his mom smile—made me want to say something. But we weren’t that close, and he already looked uncomfortable having revealed too much.

“I bet she’ll love it. Morrison’s is nice,” I offered instead. Morrison’s was full of fancy shit I’d never be able to afford, so I’d never bothered to go in.

“Yeah. I hope so.” His mouth quirked in a tired half-smile. “You coming to the Sigma Christmas party tonight?”

“Can’t. Got plans.” My attention caught on another book in the window display— The Physics of Starlight. Logan would probably break down the whole electromagnetic spectrum for me, complete with those little hand gestures he did when he was really into explaining something. The cover was all deep blues and foil-embossed silver points of light stretching into infinity. It reminded me of the sky that night in the snow with Logan, how he’d looked at me then, like I was something worth discovering. I’d been seeing stars ever since. Stars and possibility.

Movement reflected in the window caught my eye. I turned to see Logan’s almost-date from Winter Fest, Chet, walking past on the other side of the street, bundled against the cold. God, that night could have gone so differently if I hadn’t chickened out over asking Logan out myself. Though everything had worked out in the end, even if it took an awkward burger-less study session and snowball fight to get there. Hell, maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

Mark had gone completely still beside me, his jaw clenched as he watched Chet pass. He gripped his package so tight I thought the fancy paper might tear. Then Chet disappeared from view and Mark seemed to remember where he was. He gave me a tight nod. “Don’t forget about the winter retreat when we come back. Jason’s already bitching about finalizing a headcount.” He rolled his eyes.

Right. The retreat. Two days of brotherhood and bonding at some cabins in the mountains. It was supposed to be the highlight of the year, but lately… I wasn’t sure. Some of the Sigma stuff had started feeling more like an obligation than fun. What free time I had lately, I wanted to spend with Logan.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Probably. Maybe.

Mark started to walk away, then paused. “Hey, that new place on Main Street will probably have better prices than here. The one next to the hardware store?”

The mention of hardware stores made me think about my dad, how supportive he’d been when I’d come out over thanksgiving. I couldn’t wait for my folks to meet Logan. They were gonna love him.

“Cool, thanks,” I said, but I’d already decided on The Physics of Starlight . I didn’t care what it cost. It felt right, somehow.

Ten minutes later, the book was wrapped and tucked into my bag as I headed toward the gym.

The gym was quieter than usual—most people had either finished finals and headed home, moved on to partying, or were still holed up studying, which was perfect, because I need some peace and quiet to think about what to write in Logan’s book.

“Your form’s improved.”

I nearly dropped the weight I was curling. “Jesus, Ansel. Warn a guy.”

“Just glad you’re not trying to murder the equipment anymore.” He grinned as he moved to the weight rack to select some dumbbells.

I laughed. “What would that even be? Aggravated assault on an inanimate object?”

“Maybe more like premeditated iron-slaughter.” I groaned, which just egged Ansel on. “If it was a treadmill, it’d probably be considered a crime of passion and you’d be facing hard time in cardio purgatory.”

I squinted at him. “I feel like we’ve moved beyond the judicial system into, like, Dante territory.”

“The nine circles of gym hell,” Ansel agreed solemnly, though his mouth twitched. “But you seem to have found redemption.”

“Let’s just say I finally made it to the starting line. Speaking of starting lines, it’s almost break. What the hell are you doing here?”

“You think Olympians only train the month before the games?” He rose onto the balls of his feet in a calf raise before lowering slowly. “Sustained commitment, dude. Showing up every day, even when you’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Yeah?” I grinned. “Who are you showing up for besides your stopwatch?”

He chuckled, though something flickered behind his eyes. “No one but me, myself, and I. I’m not interested in any distractions.”

“Some distractions are worth it.” I couldn’t help a smile when I thought about Logan, who’d proven to be distracting in the best of ways over the last few weeks, even when we were studying.

“That reminds me—my times improved twelve percent after you stopped hogging the leg press to moon over Jenkins.”

“Uh-huh. Well, my times improved by fifty percent due to the extra cardio.” I teased, waggling my brows. “Told you, some distractions are worth it.” He cracked up as I racked my weights and picked up my gear. “Try not to sprain anything over the holidays.”

“Try not to blow your back out,” he quipped right back.

Sounded like ‘happy holidays’ to me.