Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (54)

“The dinner bell,” he explains with a wince.

I laugh nervously and step away. “Sounds like they’re waiting for you.”

“Thanks for driving and meeting Susie Q.”

“Thanks for playing pickleball.”

I raise a hand in goodbye and head over to my car. There’s a lot more I want to say, but right now silence seems to be the safest choice.





Chapter Twenty-One





The next morning, I wake up to a photo of Susie Q, along with a text from Logan.

Logan: She misses you

My grogginess fades as I read the words. I zoom in on the adorable photo—she’s drinking from a bottle, which I didn’t get to see last night.

Quinn: That’s because she has good taste, and not just for milk

Logan: You might be right about that

Quinn: Is this an old photo? Please tell me you weren’t up early enough this morning to take this.

Logan: 5:30

Quinn: I just died and came back to life at the idea

Logan: I’m used to it

Quinn: Well I’m not and I still need to get ready

Logan: I’ll text with any farm updates

And he does. Not exactly about farm stuff, or at least not only about that. He texts to complain about his English teacher and I reply back about pre-calc. In the evening, I send him a photo of the bracelet I made with his dice, and in the morning I find a series of texts about the novel he’s reading. The following day, there are more texts than the day before. Nothing about them is romantic—I could hand my phone to my mom or Kashvi and there’d be nothing to raise an eyebrow over.

And yet.

I like seeing how he starts his mornings by checking on Susie Q and feeding their goats. I like updating him on the (honestly boring) details of my school day. I find myself wanting to know the funny meme he just found, and his opinions on the latest Marvel trailer, and which novel he’s going to read next. It’s all mundane, but it doesn’t feel that way. Each text is like a secret present just for me.

I almost wish it wasn’t so fun. If he proved himself to be a jerk, then I wouldn’t need to worry about where all this is leading, but he can’t even do me that courtesy. Instead, he’s cool and kind and funny, and it’s maddening.

Thoughts of Logan aren’t the only things plaguing my mind. Ever since I ran away from Paige at the comic book fest, I haven’t stopped thinking about what I told her. Why did I have to mention the livestream campaign? I know why I did it in the moment—because I was desperate for her to know I was fine and nothing she’d done had permanently hurt me—but what if she searches for our livestream? It’s not exactly popular, so a quick Google search won’t turn it up, but if she cared and did a little digging, she could find it. The recordings of our sessions are there for all to see.

I wish they didn’t have this power over me, but I can’t shake the worries. And, for better or worse, there’s one person in particular I want to talk to about it. I pace across my bedroom floor Thursday night, trying to decide how much to say to him. So far our texts haven’t gotten very deep, so I start simple.

Quinn: Busy?

Logan: Watching tv with my parents. It’s their way of bonding

Quinn: I thought you bonded over cow poop?

Logan: No, that’s how WE bond

Quinn: I remember no cow poop. Only her long eyelashes

Logan: Come back over and I’ll give you a better tour of the farm

I snort-laugh. I want to launch into all my worries, but it’s bad timing if he’s with his parents. I stop pacing to text him back.

Quinn: Have fun watching tv

Logan: Are you ok? You sound off

Quinn: You can’t hear me

Logan: I don’t need to hear you. Your texts are different

My stomach flutters. He knows that?

Quinn: Just thinking about the comic fest again

I immediately realize how that must sound—that I’m thinking about him and me at the comic fest. Which I absolutely have been, particularly right before I fall asleep each night, but I don’t want to give the wrong impression.

Quinn: About running into Paige there, I mean

Logan: Hold on

I frown and sink onto my bed, staring at my phone in the hopes of making more texts come. A minute later they do.

Logan: I told my parents I had to go to the bathroom. Mom was giving me serious side-eye for texting. What happened with all of that? You never really told me

Quinn: You mean at the comic store?

Logan: I mean all of it

A tingle runs up my spine. I take a breath and then my fingers start flying over the keys. My usual short texts are replaced by paragraphs as I tell him the whole story, both what happened before with Caden and my run-in with Paige. I don’t give every single detail, but enough for him to get the full picture. Logan doesn’t reply immediately—which is fair since there’s a lot to process—but it only makes me clutch my phone tighter with nerves. Hopefully I didn’t overwhelm him.

Logan: Give me their addresses and I’ll go have a word with them

I laugh and lean against my headboard.

Quinn: Thanks but that’s probably a bad idea

Logan: They should have thought about that before messing with you. It’s so shitty, Quinn. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this