Conductive heat transfers from my curling wand to my brown locks, steaming as my hair curls around the large rod. I carefully wrap sections of hair around the source of heat, holding them loosely around the wand to form relaxed, bouncing waves that fall carelessly across my shoulders.
"Seems like a lot of work for dinner, babe," Logan lazily states. He's laying on my bed, already dressed, looking delicious in a dark pair of slacks and a charcoal button down.
"Sorry it doesn't take me two minutes to slick back my hair like you, you bum. Besides, I want to make a good impression on your parents. I want them... I want them to like me," I admit.
"Um, did you black out when my mom was fan-girling over you? I think you're good, babe. Plus, I love you, so they'll love you."
"I resent the implication that their love for me is dependent on your love for me. I'm quite lovely all on my own, thank you very much."
Logan laughs, "Of course you are, baby. Why don't we grab more stuff to bring to mine after dinner? I can't believe we had to come back to your apartment just so you could defy nature's intentions with your hair."
"Of course we had to come back to my place, Logan. You may have forgotten considering the fact that I've been sleeping over so often—but I live here—so my stuff is here."
My remark is met with silence, and the reflection in my mirror not only shows long waves of sleek brown hair, but also a pursed-lip Logan. Fortunately, I finish my hair quickly, only needing to curl a few more sections. Mindful to turn off the curling wand, I turn to grab the dress I have hanging on my closet door. It's semi-casual and appropriate in length, and its dark green material stretches nicely over my curves for a sweet but flirty look.
The fabric glides easily up my form, covering my black, lacy thong. The long sleeves dance sensually across my arms, the silky material soothing against my feverish skin—being almost-naked in front of Logan always sets me alight with anticipation.
"Zip me up, babe?" I ask, a little breathless.
An appreciative hum sounds from Logan's chest as he approaches me, eyes dark. His large hands wrap around my waist, pulling my back flush with his chest. He pulls my wavy locks to one side before placing soft, sensual kisses across my exposed neck. Each kiss sends shivers down my spine, his bated breaths dancing along my skin.
He zips up my dress slowly—purposefully—allowing his hand to graze against every inch of my exposed back. Once the dress is fully zipped, he pulls me flush against him once more, hugging me from behind. A pause.
"Lauren," he whispers, turning me around. His eyes find mine quickly, and their intensity is humbling.
I raise my eyebrow in response, provoking him to follow through with whatever salacious sentiment he has to offer.
"I... I know it's really soon, but I want you to know that whenever you're ready—I want you to move in with me. You don't need to do it now, I just wanted you to know that that's what I want—what I'm ready for. I wanted you to know that before Mia's transplant. Before things become even more chaotic. I didn't want you to think I was only asking out of convenience or obligation. So just... whenever you're ready, I'm ready. Okay?"
Sincerity shines like starlight in his eyes, gleaming like a bright beacon of hope and love. His words and earnestness make me slightly weak in the knees, and I'm not sure I am successful in hiding my shock.
Logan smiles softly, understanding painted across his handsome face. He pulls me in for a long, tender kiss. His tongue plays with mine, exploring, caressing, and tasting. His kiss is searing but sweet, exciting but full of emotion and comfort. He finally pulls away and places a sweet kiss to my forehead before whispering, "I get it. Whenever you're ready, baby. Whenever."
Breathless, all I can mutter is, "Okay, babe. When I'm ready."
Our stare is interrupted by my ringing phone, its loud tone piercing through our soft, intimate moment. Caught off guard, I answer the phone without checking the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Well well well. It's me, Sami, your invisible friend. You know, the one you used to love before you started to get dicked down every night by that tall adonis?"
A loud, surprised laugh sounds from behind me, indicating to me that Logan can hear Sami's every word. I shake my head with a smile, used to her antics.
"I know, I'm sorry. We need to get lunch this week. You're going to kill me but I really can't talk, Logan and I are meeting his parents for dinner in just a bit," I respond.
"Oooooh, the in-laws, eh?"
A rugged cough escapes my throat, itchy with discomfort. My eyes dart to Logan who is pretending not to listen, his small smile giving him away. Why is she like this?
"Thanks for that. I'll call you tomorrow," I retort.
"Is his dad hot? I bet he's hot. Wear something low cut! His dad will love—" Sami is cut off as I end the call, unwilling to let her finish her ridiculous thought.
I take a deep breath, exhaling my anxiety. Logan gives me a moment to collect myself, and I can feel the heat slowly dissipating from my cheeks.
"So, not to put any pressure on you or anything," Logan begins as I gather my belongings—including another overnight bag for his place tonight—"but for the sake of transparency you should know that I've never explicitly 'brought a girl home to meet mom and dad,' so to speak. Obviously they've met Ashley, but that was really in response to finding out she was pregnant. So forgive my mom in advance for her excitement."
"Really?" I'm genuinely surprised. I know he hasn't had many serious relationships in the past, but I figured there was at least one who made it to the 'meet the parents' stage.
He scoffs, "Yeah, really. Why? How many guys have met your parents?"
"Just like 11 or 12 guys," I joke.
Logan has a smile on his face as he growls playfully, "Babe..."
"C'mon," I chuckle, "it's time for me to go hit on your dad."
***
Melted butter pours from my chicken as I cut into it, the knife piercing the sautéed meat with ease. The butter travels a path down the gleaming white plate to my asparagus, which absorbs the flavorful juice with greed. Clinking glasses and muffled conversations are just loud enough to drown out the soft music that floats above us gracefully.
Dinner has been going well, conversation light and easy. Logan's reassuring presence has brought me ease and calmed my nerves, his hand squeezing my knee under the table whenever he can sense I am becoming overwhelmed.
I love him.
"So Lauren, I heard that you and Mia have been getting along really well," Mike states.
"Oh yes!" Jenn exclaims, "Logan sent us that picture of you guys in those unicorn costumes—just adorable! And the ones with Mia helping you make lasagna! Once Logan shows me how," she gives him that pointed look only mothers have perfected, "I want to get them printed. Just so cute. It seems like Mia adores you."
I give Logan a look, surprised that he sent those pictures to his parents. He smiles sheepishly in response, for once looking a little embarrassed by his mother's revelation. Regaining his composure, he shoots me a wink, and I melt under his gaze—butter be damned.
"She's such a sweet, smart girl," I respond. "I"m really lucky to be a part of her life."
"Do you have any kids?" Mike asks.
"No, no kids. But as you know, I've worked with kids at the pediatric hospital for quite some time, so that helps."
"So Logan, tell us more about how you and Lauren came to be. You weren't harassing one of Mia's nurses, were you?" Mike teases.
Logan chuckles, "Well, we actually met and dated a bit before we ran into each other at the hospital. She captivated me from the get-go. When everything happened," he pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat, "and I saw her there first thing... I just knew."
Mike and Jenn share a long look, and a warm, happy silence falls upon our table. Despite his chronic sweetness, I am still deeply affected by his candidness with his parents about our relationship, and I have to blink back the moisture forming in my eyes.
Logan catches my reaction and shakes his head, smiling. He silently mouths the word 'loser' to me, chuckling softly.
"Lauren? Is that you?"
Our moment is interrupted by a masculine presence walking by our table, his deep voice sending shockwaves through my system.
"Mark... hi," I stammer, surprise and anxiety prickling under my skin.
Wonderful.
I told Logan about Mark a couple of weeks ago, so I know he can't be annoyed with me—not that he has any reason to be, anyway. I was perfectly single and available to see whomever I wanted at the time. Despite that, I can feel Logan tense slightly next to me, sizing up the man before me.
"Lauren you look gorgeous! It's been what... a couple months?"
Mark is now standing beside me at the table, and I can feel three sets of eyes boring into me. Since Mark clearly can't read the damn room, I feel obligated to stand up and provide him with an actual, amicable greeting.
I stand up to give him an awkward hug, and my soul dies a little as I realize Logan's parents are watching this torturous exchange. Though the contact is brief, I can feel a now-standing Logan behind me as I remove myself from Mark's grasp.
Internally, I roll my eyes. Caveman.
"Mark, this is my boyfriend Logan, and his parents, Mike and Jenn," I reveal, giving him a look that I hope conveys, 'please just go, you're killing me.' I turn towards the table to continue, "Jenn, Mike, this is a friend of mine, Mark."
Logan extends a hand a little too enthusiastically, and their testosterone-filled greeting threatens to blow the roof off this fine-dining establishment.
"Nice to meet you, man," Mark replies, his smile genuine but wary.
"Likewise, Mark," Logan booms, his confident voice sending pulsating tingles down my spine and into my needy core. He not-so-subtly places his hand on my hip, a physical claim over me.
Damn you, you anthropological desire to be fought over.
An uncomfortable Mark sends a quick 'Nice to meet you' to Logan's parents who smile politely at his gesture, and he subsequently exits the area as quickly as he entered.
As Mark leaves, I subtly jab my elbow into Logan's firm stomach, clueing him in on my displeasure with his display. He gives me a sheepish look before quietly muttering, "You're right, I'm sorry."
The look of contrition on his face is enough for me, and deep down I know he really wasn't that bad, all things considered.
"Logan, put your dick away, yeah? He seemed like a nice guy. Relax," Mike interjects, and his statement makes my eyes go wide before a strangled laugh escapes my throat.
Properly chastised, Logan shakes his head, smiling. "What? I finally found her. I'm not letting her go," he punctuates his sentiment with a quick kiss to my forehead, and Jenn actually sighs aloud.
"You're too much," I laugh.
"But just enough for you," he retorts with a wink.
Despite myself, I can't remove the shit-eating grin from my face.
***
A/N:
Hey guys! Sorry for all the updates, haha! Even though I'm still working, my clinical for grad school was canceled, so now I feel like I have so much free time! I'm bound and determined to finish this story so I can go back and edit it, because I know it needs it, haha!
Hope everyone is doing well!
Thanks for reading!
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—Elise