Just Don't Fall (Sweater Weather, #1; Appies, #1)

by Emma St. Clair

In any case, now I’ve reached the point where I’m more than fine with my choice—and it is a choice. I’ve waited this long, and I’m not willing to settle for just any old meeting of the mouths with a random dude. But what I do know is that it will be with someone special.

Getting Logan to talk about himself was always like trying to pull teeth … from an angry dragon using a pair of chopsticks while wearing mittens.

I had no words when she opened the door. None. I could only stare. Parker is the perfect combination of girl-next-door and dead sexy. She is too beautiful for words. At least, not any words I know. Even if I had a stellar vocabulary, the sight of her made me lose even the most basic single syllables.

While a memory involving barf isn’t the epitome of romantic, it reminds me how thoughtful and tender he could be, even when he was a dumb teenage boy. (Because let’s face it—all teenage boys exist on a sliding scale of stupidity.) Bringing it up is also a nod to our shared past and how much history we share. “You remember,” I say. Logan smiles. “Hard to forget.”

The man who won’t stop spoiling me in large and small ways. I love it. But not as much as I love the kissing. Oh, the kissing. Logan and I have superseded my history of terrible almost kisses by extensive hours (and hours) of making new memories in their place. Especially on his new couch, which gives Fancy Chair a run for its money in terms of comfort. It’s some kind of lush microfiber that’s exactly the right mix of supportive and soft. I’m not saying it’s one of Logan’s best qualities … but it definitely doesn’t hurt.

I want that for Logan because I know it’s what he wants. As for what I want … well, I want my cake (Logan being happy) and want to eat it too (Logan staying here). I have a feeling I’m going to end up with either cake I can look at but not touch or no cake at all. Have I mentioned I really, really like cake?

Kissing me wasn’t an automatic moving into a required relationship thing, like a store’s you-break-it-you-buy-it policy. There is no you-kiss-it-you-keep-it-forever policy. Though I totally wish there were.