Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (20)

The British GPS voice announces “Arrived.”

Logan pulls his truck in front of my house, puts it in park, and turns to me. “Okay, fine, if that’s what your answer is, then I believe you.”

But the casual skepticism in his tone pricks at my nerves.

“If you think I concocted some scheme just so I had an excuse to talk to you, then you’re the most egotistical person I’ve ever met,” I reply in a tone that’s more self-assured than I feel. “My grandma is the one who spotted you because she was so desperate for a photo. I was too busy fangirling over Kashvi’s d20 earrings to notice you.”

Rather than look annoyed, he only leans back against the driver’s side door and surveys me. “Well, that’s too bad,” he replies. “Because I noticed you.”

Heat zips up my spine. I stare at him for a second as I try to process his words, but my heart is beating too fast and my brain is chugging too slow. He noticed me, which means…what? That he was interested in me? Possibilities for the two of us swirl in my mind, but it’s not like I can act on any of this even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I’m committed to the group now.

I bumble to open the passenger door. I’m completely thrown by the end of this conversation, and I need space and air to figure out how I feel. I step out—completely forgetting I’m in a truck with a higher step down—and drop onto the curb. My knees hit the grass and I twist to glare at the offending truck.

Logan jumps out and jogs around to me. “Whoa, are you all right?”

“Your stupid truck is too high off the ground. It’s impossible to get out of it.”

“This is actually a really small truck. So small it’s embarrassing to drive.”

“You’re not helping, in case you were wondering.”

I push my bangs out of my eyes, mortification growing in me with every passing second. This is the moment I choose to make a complete fool of myself in front of Logan? I want to get away from him, not spend more time together. I stand and force my chin up.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to stay any longer.”

I take a step back, not realizing my bag is now directly behind me, and trip again. I hit the ground harder this time. Oh my god, I’m one second away from bursting into tears out of sheer embarrassment.

Before I can move, Logan is crouched in front of me. His eyebrows pull down in concern and his hands wrap around my wrists. He tugs me gently to my feet and I can’t ignore the charged tingle that shoots up my arms from the feel of his fingers pressed into my skin. It renders me mute for a moment.

“Quinn, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. I’m okay, I just tripped.”

“Are you sure? Do you have, like, vertigo or something?”

My all-encompassing embarrassment cranks up another notch. “No, nothing like that.”

But he’s looking at me with such worry and interest, his gaze almost boring into me, and I grasp for some explanation to give him. Something that makes more sense than saying I’m unsteady in his presence.

“Uh, actually, maybe I do have something going on with my ears today. Like the beginning of an ear infection?” The words keep coming, although I’m not sure what I’m saying. “I’ve heard it can affect your balance—you know, something with inner ear fluid?”

Inner ear fluid? All sense fell out of my brain when I tripped over my bag.

He lifts his hands to my shoulders, as if to keep me from tipping over. “That sounds serious. I’ll help you to your door, but you should call the doctor when you get inside. Or I could call my mom? She’s a nurse.”

If we keep talking, I’m going to find myself in urgent care. I glance behind me, grab my bag, and take a step back.

“I’m okay, really. I’m already feeling better.” I wave him off and start toward the sidewalk to the front door.

“You’re sure?”

“I only bruised my ego.”

He considers me, then nods. “Yeah, okay. But call the doctor before it gets worse.”

He returns to his truck and pulls away, leaving me on the front step with a racing heart, confused thoughts, and dubious inner ear fluid.





Chapter Nine





I’m not thrilled about the possibility of more embarrassment, especially after my last conversation with Logan, but I agree to have Grandma pick me up from school on Monday.

“Are you sure it’s safe for her to be driving?” I asked at the dinner table the night before. Andrew was at a late practice, so it was just Mom, Dad, and me. “I was worried she might plow over a freshman the last time she dropped me off.”

“She’ll be driving twenty miles an hour around town,” Mom replied. “She’ll be okay for that distance.”

“You don’t understand how much it means to her. It’ll make her whole day,” Dad added.

“And you don’t understand how embarrassing it is when she leans out the window and yells at random kids.”

He chuckles. “True. Could you just let her pick you up every once in a while?”

And here we are. I climb into Grandma’s car, which smells like her floral perfume, and she smiles over at me.

“How’s it going? You look tired.”