Logan chuckled, which was what Tate had intended as he tugged him closer.

“You scare the shit out of me,” Logan admitted as he placed a hand on Tate’s chest. There it was again—the power.

“And you think I’m not scared?”

“No. I know you are. But what are you scared of?”

Tate wasn’t quite sure he understood the question.

What am I scared of? Isn’t it obvious?

Logan slid a hand up to the side of his face, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Tate was sure it still should’ve been weird, Logan’s comforting him.

But it wasn’t.

“What, Tate? Tell me.”

Tate gripped the wrist by his chin. It was thick and strong, just like his. He’d told himself he needed to be brave, and he also knew he had to be honest.

He swallowed and finally admitted out loud, “I’m scared of what they’ll think.”

Logan’s eyes never wavered, but he saw a flash of emotion cross them—a flash of apprehension.

“Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Tate hated the fact that he was worried about his parents’ reactions.

Scratch that—my entire family’s.

It wasn’t as if he were a child needing their approval, but he knew that Sunday was not going to go well, and the closer they got, the more anxious he became.

“They’re my family. Of course I’m worried about how they’ll react.”

“To me?” Logan asked.

“No. To us.”

Logan said nothing as he lowered his hand.

“But I’m not going to deny it,” Tate assured him again. “Look, can we get some sleep and maybe spend tomorrow just hanging out? Are you free?”

Logan tried for cool and casual but didn’t quite pull it off. Even with the sexy wink he gave, he seemed uneasy. “Sure. We can hang out.”

They walked back into the bedroom, and the way Logan purposely bumped into his side, Tate knew he was trying to lighten the mood.

“What exactly does ‘hanging out’ mean to you?”

Tate looked at him quizzically as Logan took off his glasses and sweats before getting under the covers. “I was thinking maybe the movies, or I don’t know, miniature golf if you want. I don’t care. I just figured we could spend the day together before I go to work.”

Tate removed the towel and dropped it on the floor, catching the way Logan checked him out as he too got back into bed.

“Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Morrison?”

Tate moved down until he was on his side, facing Logan. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Logan turned so they were mirroring one another and pretended to think it over. “Then I accept—on one condition.” Tate waited for something outlandish from Logan and laughed when he said, “I’m picking what we’re doing. The movies or putt-putt? How did you ever get laid?”

Tate sucked his lower lip into his mouth as his eyes trailed over Logan, and he put every effort into a look that he hoped would—

“Fuck. Stop it. Okay, okay. You made your point. I’d even brave putt-putt for that face.”

Tate chuckled, rolled to his back, and waited.

There it was—their new ritual.

Logan raised his arm, and Tate found himself moving in toward his side.

It was amazing that something so simple had once felt so complicated.

When, now, all it felt was right.

* * *

Logan sat at his dining table the next morning with a coffee and the paper. He’d been trying to focus on reading the business section for the last twenty minutes and failing. He kept reading the headline over and over.

Last night had been intense. Not only had he and Tate had their first somewhat-public date as a couple, what happened after had been just short of life changing for him.

Here he was, someone who’d sworn off any kind of committed relationship, falling for Tate. A man who’d only kissed him, a man, a few weeks earlier.

I’m fucking crazy. What the hell is the matter with me?

There was a very real possibility that Tate would change his mind. After all, it had happened before…

“What are you doing here, Mitchell?”

Logan looked at his study partner and behind-closed doors boyfriend, Chris Walker, as he stood in the hallway. He’d been coming over to Chris’s dorm for the last several months, and lately, he’d been making up every excuse he could think of to stop by and see him.

At first, their relationship had started out innocently enough when they’d paired up to study, but that all changed when Chris showed a real interest in studying something other than math. It was a subject Logan had never thought about until Chris kissed him, and then he’d been more than happy to explore the new topics in private.

“I was on my way home from the library and thought I’d stop and see if you were free.”

“Free? Free for what? I pay you, and you help me pass algebra.”

Chris’s sarcastic voice filled the hall and had several people staring at them as he stepped out into the narrow space. Logan stood there, confused over why he was being so cold until two other guys came to the door they’d just vacated.

“Go home, would you? I’m busy.”

Logan pushed his glasses up his nose and narrowed his eyes on the guy in front of him. Chris was one of the university’s star lacrosse players, and as Logan shrugged his bag up his arm, he couldn’t help but look at the muscular chest he’d worshipped yesterday with his mouth.

“Can’t I come in? Just for a minute?”

Chris walked forward and had him backing up until his ass was against the opposite wall, similar to the position he’d had him in yesterday when he’d kissed him.

“I said I was busy. Now get lost, Mitchell.”

Logan flinched at the blunt dismissal and tried to mask the hurt he was feeling. He didn’t have the height and muscles Chris had, but the one thing he did possess was his pride.

“Gee, you didn’t say that yesterday when you had your dick in my—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Chris had his forearm against his chest and his other arm raised, ready to punch him.

Logan knew he was about to get a fist to the face, but as he stood there in the hall with Chris’s friends cheering behind him, he knew that it would hurt a hell of a lot less than the way his heart ached in that moment.

He’d really thought the way Chris touched him and spoke to him in private had meant something, and as the huge hand cut through the air and connected with his cheek, all Logan heard was laughter followed by his name and then Chris’s.

He slumped down the wall completely dejected and saw his…yes…his half brother, Cole, grabbing Chris and giving him a thorough beating before turning on the other two.

Holy shit, he thought in that moment, I wish I could’ve landed that punch…

“Logan?”

Logan looked up from the paper to see Tate standing opposite him and the table.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Tate was giving him an unsure look, and Logan didn’t blame him. He’d been completely oblivious to his coming into the room. Who knew how long he’d been standing there.

“I just asked if I could borrow some jeans or go home to change before we go out today.”

Logan lowered the paper and then lifted his coffee to take a sip. “So you still want to go?”

Tate frowned at him. “Yeah, why? I agreed to let you pick the place, didn’t I? You change your mind?”

Feeling like an idiot for his own doubts, Logan closed the paper and stood, walking around the table. He brought a hand to Tate’s waist and traced the warm skin there. The leather pants he’d pulled on and left undone were hanging low on his hips.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just hang out here?”

Tate pushed him away and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Plus, you’re already dressed.”

Logan looked down at his dark jeans and cream, lightweight V-neck sweater. “You would be correct. I woke up a few hours ago.”