John Logan was used to being wanted.
Or so he kept telling himself.
“I’m not alone. You’re here.”
That’s what he repeated like a mantra at the start of freshman year, sitting on the worn couch in the Briar hockey house, a bottle of Jack in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling her Instagram like a masochist.
For a long, terrifying second, she didn’t move. The Mistake Vk Elle Kennedy
Romi’s breath hitched. “Logan…”
How had he missed it?
Romi raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been moping for three weeks. It’s November. The season’s started. We have a game tomorrow. And you’re sitting here getting drunk alone while your teammates are at the party down the hall.”