Page 64 of Logan

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Page 64 of Logan

I force myself out of bed. I shower and pack up my things, prepping for another day on the road. It’s not a long trip,thankfully. About five hours between Philly and Boston. Plenty of time for Christian Myers and me to talk about our date.

Wow, what a sentence.

As I get dressed, I open the music app on my phone, navigating to Cobraville’s debut, chart-crushing album,Snake Bite.Gosh, I listened to this so many times in high school. I knew every lyric to every song.

And now, the lead singer is taking me on a date.

I pop my earbuds in so I can listen to it on my way downstairs to the hotel restaurant. Settling at the largest table with a pastry and a cup of coffee, I lay out my planner and focus on some work while Christian Myers coos in my ear.

“Wrap me up tight, twist me 'round,

You’re the hottest poison that I’ve ever found,

Your grip gets tighter. I can’t fight,

I’ll die happy in the heat of your bite.”

After a while, I feel someone pull out the chair next to mine. Expecting Chrissy, I look up, but my smile slips with surprise as Christian himself spins the chair around. He lowers down, sitting backwards on it in that cool guy way. His hair is damp and slicked back, as if he just got out of the shower and tossed a comb through it. He’s dressed casually in a pair of torn jeans and a T-shirt — a Break the Rules Tour T-shirt, actually. Must have bought it at the show last night.

His lips move, his head bobbing with a question.

I pull out a bud. “What?”

“I said, what are you listening to?” he asks.

“Oh—” I stutter as blood fills my cheeks.“Nothing.It’s nothing. Just a news podcast?—”

Christian snatches the bud from my fingers and holds it to his own ear before I can mute it. His lips curl into a sinister smile, and he looks at me playfully.

“Just a podcast,” he repeats.

I swallow hard, too embarrassed to say anything.

With the bud in his ear, Christian hums along to the songDangerous Curves.One of their slower ballads. As the chorus approaches, he licks his lips and...

“She’s got that red-hot leather, drippin’ in desire,

Moves like a storm, set my body on fire,

High heels clickin’, like a loaded gun,

I’m revvin’ my engine, but there’s nowhere to run.”

As he sings, I do nothing. Frozen solid beside him, I let myself drift with the music, with his cool serenade. Even here, just sitting in a chair with no microphone and no real audience, he shines with that same frontman charisma that radiates from Knox every time he takes center stage.

“Damn,” Christian says. “That one brings back some memories.”

I nod. “It’s my favorite track on the album.”

“Really?” He cants his head. “NotDark Flow?”

“Oh,Dark Flowis asingle.For sure. ButCurvesspoke to me more, I guess. Me at sixteen, anyway.”

He hums softly, letting the rest of the song play out before popping the bud out of his ear and offering it back to me. I take it, politely removing the second one from my ear as well.

Christian stays twisted in his chair, his entire focus on me. “Does this morning’s choice of tunes mean you’ve given some thought to... what I asked you last night?” he asks.

“It might.”