“Yes,” Logan said. “Mom, Dad, this is Brody, my roommate. Dad, I was just helping Brody out for your class this afternoon.”
“My son will talk your ear off when it comes to history,” he said. “He knows more than I do at this point. The student becomes the master.”
“Posture, honey,” Mrs. Martinson said to Logan, lifting an eyebrow as she placed a hand on his back. Logan sat up straighter in the booth, casting his eyes to one side.
He’d mentioned that his parents could be strict. I couldn’t imagine my mom ever even noticing my posture, let alone correcting it. My mom had always let me do pretty much whatever the hell I wanted, for better or for worse.
“Logan’s an amazing tutor,” I said, clearing my throat. “I think it’s going to help me do a lot better on the next test. I hope so, at least.”
“You’ve been helping him, Logan?” Mrs. Martinson asked, a thin smile on her face. “Well, I hope you’re leaving enough time for your own studies.”
“I am,” Logan said. “Always.”
“I can’t distract him for that long,” I said. “He always goes back to his books.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s tutoring you,” Prof Martinson said.
I had no idea if Prof Martinson remembered how crappy I’d done on the last exam, but I certainly hoped I could make up for it.
“Well, it’s really nice to meet you. Outside of class, that is,” Prof Martinson said. “We’ll let you boys get back to your meal. Logan, give us a call tomorrow. We’ve got to talk Thanksgiving plans, okay?”
They headed over to their own booth on the opposite side of the diner. Logan was already fishing in his pocket, bringing out his wallet and dropping some cash on the table.
“I’m going to head out,” he said.
“Already? And hey, I said I’d buy you dinner,” I protested. “Put that cash away.”
He reluctantly took back most of the cash. “Okay, but at least let me leave the tip.”
If any of my buddies had said that, I’d have been making a joke about “just the tip” in an instant. But I’d already put Logan through enough awkwardness for one day.
“All right,” I said, grabbing the check that the waitress had left earlier. I went up to the register and paid, walking out to find Logan waiting on the sidewalk outside, all decked out in his coat and scarf again. He looked a little more anxious, now, since we’d seen his parents.
But he also looked ruggedly beautiful, somehow. His furrowed brow accentuated his bone structure—his high cheeks lit by a street lamp above.
For Christ’s sake. Maybe Logan wasn’t just cute. I was starting to realize he could be full-blown gorgeous.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He glanced back at the diner. “Yeah, I’m all right. Just want to get home.”
I watched his face. “To get away from your parents?” I asked as we started walking.
I didn’t want to pry too much into his personal life, but I’d noticed the shift in his attitude from the moment they’d appeared. They seemed like very kind people, but Logan seemed like he was on high alert now.
He nodded. “Maybe. Just a little,” he said. “I love my parents, but I always feel like I need to measure up to their standards. You know?”
“I understand,” I told him, the cold wind blowing through our hair as we walked.
“It was so much better this summer,” Logan continued. “We were on a road trip. We went with Sam. My parents seemed so relaxed, for the first time in years. But now it’s started back up again. They still act like I’m not an adult. They try to help, but it just comes out as criticizing.”
“I can’t exactly relate,” I said. “My parents didn’t really have standards. I got to make my own decisions, which kids shouldn’t make, sometimes. Also, I thought your posture was just fine, for the record.”
“So you noticed when Mom told me to sit up straight, huh? She does that. Bad posture is one of her pet peeves.”
“She seems like a good mom.”
“She is,” Logan said. “At the end of the day, I’m very lucky to have them. I just wasn’t expecting to see them while I was out with—”
He broke off, biting his lip like he’d said too much.
“While you were out with me,” I offered, completing his sentence for him.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he said, apologetic. “Shit. That sounded wrong.”
“It’s fine,” I said, waving a hand through the air. “Do they… do they know you’re attracted to men? Are you worried they thought you were on a date with me?”
“They know,” Logan said.
“Okay, good. I’d feel like absolute shit if that’s what was worrying you.”
Logan puffed out a laugh. “I’m actually worried about the opposite.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced at me from the side. “They’ve been bugging me to go on dates. Especially since this summer.”