“Built?” Tate supplied.

Logan chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. I was skinnier. Always had my head in a book and kind of kept to myself.”

Tate shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, that just seems impossible.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine the man who hunted me down as a nerd in any way.”

Logan nodded, knowing that it probably was hard to believe. He was nothing like the boy he’d left behind. He wondered if Tate was.

“What about you? Were you Mr. Popular?”

Tate walked up the stairs and into the plane ahead of him. Then he stopped in the doorway and turned. “No. I wasn’t into sports or anything like that. They were the popular guys. But I had lots of friends. Loved music and played the guitar in the school band. Never really got in trouble either. I played by the rules—in school.”

Logan climbed the stairs, intrigued by the last part of that statement, and stopped when he was one down from Tate. “What about outside of school then?” He touched his fingers to the shirt covering Tate’s stomach and watched him wink at him.

“Outside of school, I was bossy. Always had a million ideas on things we could do. And I was usually the one telling people how to do them.”

Logan felt a ridiculously large smile cross his mouth. “Imagine that.”

“Hard to, isn’t it?” Tate joked.

“Not at all. You’re extremely bossy when you want to be.” Logan continued up the stairs, gripped the material of his shirt, and pulled him inside the plane behind him.

He felt Tate come up behind him now that they were in the shell of the plane and whisper, “Like last night?”

“Mhmm. And whenever you drink. You get very bossy when you drink.” He paused when he felt a hand on his ass. “Are you all right there? Coppin’ a feel.”

Tate placed his chin down on his shoulder as they stopped to read the plaque in front of them about the electrical equipment. “Don’t act as if you don’t like it.”

“I’m not. I’m asking if you are all right doing it.”

“Have I stopped yet?”

No, he hadn’t stopped. In fact, Tate’s hand was now massaging him.

Logan turned his head and reminded him, “We were having a Q & A session, remember? It was your idea.”

Tate’s brown eyes were practically sparkling with mischief. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed and removed his hand. “Okay, it’s my turn. When was your first kiss?”

Logan turned fully until they were facing one another. “Vicki Prescott. I was eight. We kissed and swapped our underwear.”

The scandalized look on Tate’s face had Logan close to losing the serious expression he was trying hard to hold.

“You swapped your underwear?”

He patted Tate on the chest and stepped around him. “Hey, at least I was smart enough to wait until after I got my glasses so I could see everything.”

Logan walked up the aisle of seats as Tate spun around and scoffed at him.

“I’m still stuck on the underwear part.”

“What about it?”

“Did you kiss her before the swap occurred or after?”

Tate was so serious with his question that Logan finally lost the battle and started to really laugh.

“Does it matter?”

Tate wandered up and stopped beside him. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Why?” Logan was dying to know his reasoning.

“If it was before you kissed her, you were one hell of a curious child and wanted to know what equipment she had.”

“And if it was after?” Logan chuckled.

“If it was after, you obviously didn’t care either way what was revealed.”

Logan gave Tate a thorough once-over as he stood there and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So according to your theory, you didn’t care either way?”

“I wasn’t the one switching my clothes with girls.”

Logan was sure he should’ve let that one pass, but well…Fuck it.

“No, you just switched them with me after we kissed. Aren’t you naked in my jeans right now?”

Tate’s eyes narrowed, and then he smiled. “Don’t try and distract me, Mr. Mitchell.”

Logan let it go, but before he walked farther down the inside of the plane, he added, “I think you like calling me that. Maybe I will get you to use it in bed.”

Tate’s laughter rumbled through the interior as Logan heard some other people come into the mock-up of the plane behind them. They exited the 727 and were making their way back out to the main floor when Logan realized that it was his turn, and he wanted to know—

“Who was your first kiss?”

Without missing a beat, Tate responded, “Dani Bosley. My next-door neighbor. I kissed her through the back fence and got caught. I got in a lot of trouble for that.”

Logan nodded and, in a most serious tone, commiserated. “Oh yeah, I believe it. You really shouldn’t kiss girls, Tate.”

Tate rolled his eyes at him, and Logan found that he was more relaxed than he’d ever been. Spending time with Tate was easy. He was so laid back that just being around him made him feel the same way.

It also didn’t hurt that being near him made Logan’s whole day that much better.

He walked over to the hanging Piccard Gondola and stopped to look up.

“What about the first boy?” Tate’s quiet question found him from where he’d stopped just behind his shoulder. They weren’t touching in any way, but Logan could have sworn he could feel him.

He turned back and saw the serious expression in Tate’s eyes before turning to face him. “First boy I..?”

“Kissed,” Tate supplied instantly.

Logan licked his lips, and Tate immediately looked at them.

“Chris Walker.”

“The same—”

“Yes,” Logan confirmed, nodding quickly and turning away before he said anything else.

Tate stepped in close so he could feel him against his back, and then Logan heard him ask, “Wasn’t he your first in…”

“In where?”

Tate reached forward to touch his hand. “In bed?”

Logan thought back to then and tried to make light of it. “It wasn’t technically in a bed.”

“Logan…”

“What? It wasn’t,” he defended as Tate’s fingers took his, and the strangest thought rushed through his mind. Don’t do this to me. Not unless you mean it.

“Stop making jokes for a minute, would you?”

Logan scanned the exhibit hall. He saw several families and couples walking by, but when his eyes came back to focus on Tate, he seemed oblivious to them.

His focus was on him—one hundred percent.

He seemed so sure, so steady in his decisions that, with every passing hour, Logan knew his defenses were crumbling.

“What happened back then? I know the CliffsNotes, but I’m sure there’s more to the story,” Tate pushed gently.

He sighed, not really wanting to get into it on their date. “It’s no different than any other breakup.”

Tate’s expression screamed, ‘Bullshit,’ as he turned and began walking, pulling him along with him.

Logan tugged on his hand and stopped them both. When Tate looked back at him, he asked, “Where are we going?”

“We’re leaving. You and I are going to talk about this. If not here, somewhere else.”

Logan frowned as they started walking again. “Is this usually a part of your dates? Rehashing about your ex? Because it doesn’t seem very conducive to getting laid.”

As they rounded a corner, Tate pulled him into a small alcove and pushed him roughly up against the wall. Logan didn’t know what to expect as he found his back against the solid surface and Tate’s face inches from his.

“Our problem isn’t getting laid. I could undo your pants right now and prove it, but you already know that.”

Logan swallowed but couldn’t argue with it, so he went a different route. “I didn’t realize we had a problem.”

“It’s not a problem. It’s more like a barrier. Your barrier.”

Tate was right. He did have a barrier. He didn’t trust relationships.