6. Josh

6

JOSH

I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over Logan’s contact info. I’d typed and deleted about twelve different messages since leaving Winter Fest. None of them felt right.

Hey, how was your date? Too casual. Plus, we’d never discussed stuff like that before. Want to grab coffee? Too desperate. Sorry I was weird about your date. Too… everything.

With a groan, I tossed my phone aside and flopped back on my bed. The confession about liking guys didn’t seem big anymore—my parents had been great, the few friends I’d told supportive. But this thing with Logan? It felt enormous. Terrifying. The way he’d looked at me when I told him about coming out, all soft and understanding, had almost made me brave enough to tell him the rest. That he was the reason I’d finally admitted it to myself. That watching him push his glasses up his nose or get all animated while explaining physics made my heart beat faster.

But then he’d mentioned his date, and reality had crashed back in. What the hell did I know about dating guys? Logan had experience. He’d probably want someone who knew what they were doing, not some newbie who’d need hand-holding through everything the same way I did physics. Chet had looked exactly like the kind of guy Logan deserved. Confident, put together. Edgy. Not some jock who’d blown off a group project freshman year and needed tutoring just to pass physics.

For all I knew, he and Chet were hitting it off right now, planning their second date. The thought made my stomach clench.

When my phone buzzed and my sister’s name popped up, I scrambled for it, welcoming the distraction of one of her random FaceTime calls—usually to complain about something Mom and Dad had done.

“You look like crap,” she announced as soon as I answered. “Sound like crap, too.”

“Thanks, Al. You’re a real boost to my ego.”

“Egos are gross, anyway.” She squinted at me through the screen. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong with you? You’re all…” She waved her hand vaguely. “I don’t even know. Mopey?”

“I don’t mope.” At least not in front of other people.

“Please. You’ve got the same look on your face you had that time you thought you wouldn’t make varsity.”

I sat up, propping my phone against my knees. “Shouldn’t you be doing homework or something?”

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” She arched a brow, and then frowned. “Wait, did someone say something about you being bi? I will hurt a motherfucker, swear!”

“Aly!” I couldn’t help smiling, though. Ever since my announcement over Thanksgiving break, she’d appointed herself my personal bodyguard, as if I needed one. “No one said anything. Well, nothing bad anyway.”

“Then why do you sound like someone whose dog has just run away?”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Oh my god.” She groaned, her face going blurry for a second as she flopped dramatically back on her bed. “Fine. Be mysterious and broody. I’ll just tell Mom you’re having a crisis and?—”

“It’s this guy,” I interrupted before she could follow through on that threat. “Logan.”

“Ohhhh.” Aly sat up again. “The tutor you wouldn’t shut up about at Thanksgiving?”

“I didn’t—” Had I really talked about him that much? “Yeah. Him.”

“The one who explains physics using lacrosse metaphors and sometimes forgets he’s not wearing glasses and?—”

“Jesus, I need to stop telling you things.”

“Too late.” She grinned. “What happened? Did you try to ask him out and get denied or something?”

I stared up at my ceiling. “No. I didn’t get that far. He’s on a date tonight. With someone else.”

“Oh.” For once she didn’t have a smart response. “But like, is it serious? Are they boyfriends or?—”

“It’s a first date. Some guy he met on an app.”

“Then what’s the problem? You’re way better than some random app guy.”

“You have to say that. You’re my sister.”

“Uh, no I don’t. Remember when you wore those cargo shorts to Spring Fling? I told you exactly how tragic that was.” She paused. “So, what’s the issue? Because the Josh I know doesn’t back down from anything.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “It’s different with him. If I mess this up?—”

“Then what? He’ll stop tutoring you?” She rolled her eyes. “From everything you’ve told me about him, he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”

“He’s not.” That was part of the problem. Logan was Logan. Smart and funny and a little prickly sometimes, but in this way that made me want to break through his walls. “But what if?—”

“Oh my god, you really like him.” Her eyes went wide. “Like, like him like him.”

“Are you twelve?”

“I’m supportive,” she said, while flipping me off.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes back at her, then changed the subject. “So… if you were going to receive something, uh, highly portable , for Christmas, what?—”

“Oh, you mean like a COACH clutch?” Aly perked, batting her lashes at me.

“Possibly.”

“Subtle, Josh. Don’t think I missed you changing the subject. Gosh, you’re so suave.”

“Fuck off and let me finish. If you were going to receive this highly portable gift for Christmas—which I’m not saying is a clutch. Maybe it’s a first aid kit for when you inevitably face-plant again trying to walk in those stupid platform shoes you insisted were comf?—”

“That was one time.”

“What color would you want it to be?”

“Um…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Definitely not brown or taupe or beige.” I made a face, thinking of the taupe clutch currently sitting in my closet. “Oh my god, you got me taupe didn’t you?” Her eyes went wide with horror.

“It’s neutral, it goes with everything!” I protested.

“No, it’s boring. I like actual colors. Like green, or pink, or purple, or, like, pale, pale blue with white piping and gold hardware. Get my drift?”

“Got it.” I remembered seeing a pale blue clutch with white piping and passing it over thinking she’d consider it too baby-ish.

“This is why you need a hot tutor boyfriend. He can help you Christmas shop.” She grinned. “We’re not done talking about him.”

“Yeah we are. I’ve got studying to do.”

“Coward.”

“Brat.”

“Love you too, dummy.” She blew me a kiss. “But for real, don’t overthink this, just go with your gut.”

After we hung up, I lay there staring at my ceiling, her words mixing with what Ansel had said about taking the starting position. This wasn’t sports or coming out to my family, though. This was Logan. Logan, who was probably having an amazing time with his date right now. Maybe even kissing him. Or more. Ugh.

But as much as the idea made my stomach twist, I didn’t want to get between Logan and a guy who made him happy. He deserved happiness.

At our next tutoring session, I’d keep things simple, I decided. Professional. No more burgers, no more trying to make him laugh, no more staring at him when he wasn’t looking. Just physics. Better to pull back now than make everything weird and lose him completely. I’d rather have Logan as my tutor than nothing at all.

I could do that.

Even if it killed me.