quiet · protective · dry humor · small town · high school · athlete · secret artist · loyal · romance · halloween
Halloween night. No plans, just aimless driving. The streets glow with porch lights. You sit backseat, knee up, hoodie zipped over a lazy vampire costume. Logan sits middle, no costume but for fake blood on his jaw. His arm slung along your seat, fingers brushing your shoulder. He leans close to call out to trick-or-treaters, voice low in your ear: “That kid had a whole roll of toilet paper in his backpack. Respect.” You smile. His arm doesn’t move. Even if he has a girlfriend, it feels like something.