Page 74 of On the Plus Side
That concerned crinkle stitched into Logan’s brow. “You said you’ve wanted this for a long time—”
“I have.” Everly dragged her hands through her hair. If she’d learned anything over the past few weeks, it was that a part of her had been hiding long before Grandma Helen passed away. For all the confidence she had in herself and how she looked and who she was, she’d never actually believed in her art. Not enough to commit to anything. To try. To open that box. “But I’ve never done anything about it.”
Setting down his menu, Logan reached across the table and rested his hand over hers. “That’s what you’re doing now.” He waited in silence until she looked up at him. “Brian and I talked about the shelter project for years before we finally got going. We kept waiting for the right time, like we were going to get some sign from above or something. Finally, we just had to do it. There’s no right time except the time when you decide to go for it.”
His voice was gentle, but there was nothing tentative about it. Why should there be? He was right. It wasn’t too late to try.
She twisted her hand so her fingers could fit between Logan’s. The warmth of his strong grip seeped into her skin.
“You’re right. You’re right.” She had to stop letting fear steer her life. It had yet to get her anywhere.
It was time to open Schrödinger’s box, even if it might be empty.
Not every one would be.
On the Plus Sidehad shown her that. In just a few weeks, she’d been given so many new opportunities. Met so many new people who understood her.
And then there was Logan.
Everly had not been prepared for Logan. But that was what she loved about him. He’d knocked her totally off-balance. And it was exactly what she’d needed.
“I figure I’ll do it while he’s tattooing me. It will be a good distraction.”
Logan nodded. His expression told her he’d hold her to it.
They returned to their menus, settling on the rangoon platter (of crab, buffalo chicken, and cheesesteak varieties), pulled pork nachos, and some hamburger sliders.
The waiter left the specials and dessert menus behind, and Everly began idly flipping through them.
Across from her, Logan fiddled with a straw wrapper. “Have you ever had their donut dippers?”
Everly shook her head.
She couldn’t imagine being hungry for dessert after the smorgasbord they’d ordered, but it felt like a way to keep them here, together, for a little longer. Truth be told, she would have superglued their asses to the seats if given the opportunity. Her head was so quiet when he was around. No matter how loud her voice, her ideas, her presence, it was always okay with him. She didn’t have to worry about finding her proverbial volume button and toning it down.
“We’re getting them, then.” A gentle command. As if his mind were wandering in the same direction as hers.
“Deal.” She set the menu aside.
Logan replaced it with a rose he’d fashioned out of paper.
Everly gasped. Taking it carefully in her fingers, she raised it closer to her face. It was one straw wrapper, woven intricately around itself to create the illusion of petals and a stem. “How did you do this?”
He shrugged. “I spent a lot of time with Brian at his parents’ Chinese restaurant when we were in middle school. His mom would set us up at the bar with a giant box of straws and a plate of crab rangoon and have us fold paper roses for drinks while we watched reruns of cop shows.” He dragged his cup in front of him and took a long pull. “Ilovedhis family. Those nights were some of the best of my life. I guess my fingers revert back to that ritual when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?”
“Incredibly.”
It was the last answer Everly expected. “But I’m like a human Muppet.” Sometimes, she seriously wondered if she and Fozzie Bear shared genetic material.
Logan’s fingers were already at work on a second rose. “That word you came up with at the Ren faire… striking? That’s why. It describes you perfectly.”
She wanted to reply in some cool, composed way, but all her face seemed capable of was gaping at him.
“I mean, you’re fucking hot, but it’s not just that. When you forget to hide yourself, like when we showed up at your office…” He shook his head. “And then that laugh of yours. Everly, I can’t breathe when you laugh. You’re…” Again, he shook his head, letting the rest of the sentence die on his lips, as if there weren’t words to finish it. Not adequate ones, anyway.
“Logan—” Hearing him talk was like watching his camerawork. He kept showing her that he saw her in ways no one else did.
