Out in Spring (Out in College 6)

“Ketchup,” I replied immediately.

“What’s wrong with ketchup?”

“It’s too tomato-y.” Silence. I snickered after what felt like twenty minutes. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“No, it’s a head-scratcher. Ketchup isn’t gross.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Nope. Escargot are gross. Canned cranberries are gross. Spam is gross.”

“Hey, I like cranberries and Spam,” I protested.

Logan let out a low groan. “I may need to rethink this.”

I let out a half yawn, half chuckle, then glanced at my watch. “Hmm. You know it’s after midnight, right?”

“Is it? What time is your first class?”

“Not until two. But I have to study in the morning before work.”

“Do you have a test?”

“Not tomorrow. I like to be prepared, though. Just in case.”

“I get it. Well, thanks for coming tonight. In spite of your questionable food taste, I kinda like you. It was cool to see you there.”

“Thanks. It was good to see you there too…oh, I-I guess you had to be there,” I said lamely. “But I’m glad I came. Kendra suggested it, and I wasn’t sure if it would be awkward for either of us, so we sat in the nosebleed seats. I wished I had a better view, but when I saw your girlfriend after the game, I—”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Logan corrected swiftly. “What happened? Did she say something to you tonight?”

“No. She gave me a funny look. Like she was trying to piece everything together and figure out if I was there because Kendra dragged me or if I was there because of you.” I kept my tone light, but I cringed when I replayed my words in my head. I was giving way too much away.

“It doesn’t matter what Kelly thinks. If you like me and I like you, we’re set. We don’t have to worry about anything except getting a table at the coffee shop tomorrow.”

Logan’s rationale sounded too simple, but I liked the sentiment.

“I’ll be coming from work. I can get us a table.”

“No, I’m picking you up, remember?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s on my way. I’m literally gonna walk by the bookstore, so don’t argue.”

“Okay.”

He chuckled softly. “Good. What d’ya want to talk about now, Nedster? Did you ever take a class in the old science building? Before they did that big remodel, mice freaking ruled the place. No joke. One time, I was at the…”

I smiled as I rolled to my side and let the sound of Logan’s voice wash over me. He had a quirky sense of humor, and his casual lightheartedness didn’t allow for any serious overthinking on my part. This was just fun and new. I liked him, he liked me. No big deal. But somehow it felt kind of…extraordinary.

4

Logan

My apartment was a ten-minute walk from the bookstore. That fun fact didn’t hit me until I started making daily jaunts to meet up with Ned, ’cause I never walked to school. Not because I was lazy. I’d just never had enough time after practice to shower and get to class without being tragically late. However, my new schedule rocked. I didn’t have to be anywhere until the afternoon. Plenty of time to hang out with Ned.

We met for coffee or lunch almost every day that week after our all-night gab session. He’d wait for me on one of the benches outside the concrete-and-steel building, with his head bent over a textbook. I’d move his giant backpack, flop down beside him…and just start talking.

He was sweet and easy company, but I felt nervous when I spotted him in the distance Thursday morning. And I didn’t get it. I slowed before I reached his side to study him for clues.

Ned was good-looking, but he wasn’t classically handsome. And he wasn’t athletic at all. He was a little…dorky. In the best possible way. Turned out I had a thing for brainy, sweet-natured guys who didn’t care how many goals I got in a game. He wasn’t in love with the idea of hanging out with a hockey player. In fact, if I mentioned hockey, he kinda glazed over. Not in a rude way. I sensed it was more a matter of trying to remember pertinent details, so he could follow the conversation. He liked me…for me. At least it felt that way.

He preferred to talk about things we could both relate to, like music, movies, school projects, or even our families. Ned laughed like a loon when I told him about the Easter my grandmother shaped her famous homemade bunny bread into a giant penis instead. Then he grilled me with a thousand questions about everyone’s reactions. We talked about life after graduation, but I liked that he didn’t ask impossible questions about my future. His curiosity felt genuine rather than like a test I’d probably fail. He didn’t seem to want or expect anything from me, which made me wish I could give him something more. Don’t ask me what—I didn’t have any answers. I just liked being with him.