Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (21)

“It’s going,” I reply.

I don’t exactly want to burden her with my problems, but I’m exhausted and stressed. Switching schools in the middle of the year is hard. None of the classes match exactly with my old ones, so I’m either behind or have already covered the same material. This is week two here, but I still feel disoriented in the school and classrooms—I keep expecting to turn the corner and be back at my old building—and I severely underestimated how difficult it would be to connect with people in my classes. No one is rude or anything; they’re just…apathetic. Their eyes seem to pass right through me like I’m not even there. Thank god for Kashvi, Sloane, and the D&D game, though I wish my class schedule lined up better with theirs. I don’t even have the same lunch as them.

Grandma purses her lips and takes me in. “Today is an ice cream day.”

“What? It’s forty-five degrees out.”

“As if temperature has anything to do with it. Some days call for ice cream and this is one of them.” She puts the car in reverse before I even have my seat belt buckled and then we’re flying out of the parking lot. So much for twenty miles per hour.

Soon she’s pulling into a local shop I’ve never been to before. I don’t know my way around the town yet. The inside is super cute with a teal-and-white-checkered floor, pink walls, and a mural of ice cream scoop mountains and strawberry syrup rivers.

“What’s your favorite flavor?” she asks.

“Peach,” I say immediately. “But that’s out of season. So…probably Buckeye.”

“Just like your father,” she says. “The boy never knew a jar of peanut butter he didn’t like.”

“What about you?” I glance toward the menu above the counter. Instead, my gaze falls directly on Logan.

I jolt as if the floor were electrified. He’s standing behind the counter, wearing a pink polo shirt and a pink visor with ice cream cones embroidered on both. And his name tag reads: Logan. My favorite flavor is mint chocolate chip!

He stares back at me until Grandma exclaims, “The boy who took our picture!”

He smiles at her. “This is a surprise. Did you come in for more pictures?”

“We came in for ice cream. This one had a hard day.”

He tilts his head at me. “Oh, yeah?”

My cheeks heat and I wave away Grandma’s words and his concern. “No, it was fine. I’m just milking her for free food.”

Logan laughs and Grandma swipes at me with her left hand. “You!” She turns to Logan. “Give me the orange sherbet.”

“And I’ll take a scoop of Buckeye in a cup,” I tell him.

He nods and gets to work. It’s so weird to see him in this context, although I guess that isn’t really fair. I don’t know anything about him other than he goes to my school and plays D&D. But still, I would never have expected to find him wearing a pink visor and scooping ice cream.

Grandma insists on paying and then points to Logan. “You should take your break so you can sit with us.”

“Oh, um…” He looks around uncomfortably. “I just got here. I can’t take—”

“Excuse me?” Grandma calls to the man lingering toward the back who is clearly the manager. “Can you let this young man have a few minutes of break? He’s a dear friend and I’d love to catch up with him.”

“Grandma!” I hiss. The heat of my embarrassment is going to melt my ice cream into soup. No wonder Andrew never wants to hang out with Grandma. He has more self-preservation than me.

“Uh, well…,” the manager says.

Grandma gives him a coy smile. I bet she was charming (or some might say conniving) in her day. “It’s quiet. I’m sure you can spare him for a few minutes. I do love coming here for ice cream. Best in the county!”

The man shrugs. “Yeah, all right. Go ahead, Logan.”

Logan cuts a quick glance at me and follows us to a small table in the back corner.

“How’d you like that?” she asks in triumph.

“You’re a miracle worker,” Logan whispers. “Mr. Avery is a stickler about breaks and lunchtimes.”

“I’ve always had a way with men. Under the right circumstances, I could have one eating out of my hand in twenty minutes flat.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Sometimes literally.”

I cough into my ice cream and drop my eyes to the table rather than see Logan’s (probably horrified) expression. He’s occupied more of my thoughts over the last few days than I’d like to admit, but this is not how I envisioned seeing him again. That moment in his truck has been on repeat in my mind. Has he been thinking about me as well?

“So, you’re feeling better now?” Logan asks me.

“What’s this?” Grandma asks.

“Quinn’s ear infection. She could barely keep herself upright the last time I saw her.”

“Infection!” Grandma cries, and puts her spoon down. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Heat races up my neck and face. I really hoped he’d forgotten about that. “No, Grandma, everything’s fine. I’m not sick.” I glance at Logan. “It was a false alarm. I’m fine now.”

He cocks his head. “A false alarm, huh?” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “Interesting.”