Chapter 7: Learn or Flirt?

The wind teased strands of Maya's hair free from her as she stepped onto the rooftop. The late afternoon sun painted the sky in melted gold. Logan was already there, sitting with one leg propped on the bench, textbook in one hand, a pen twirling between his fingers like he wasn't doing it on purpose. 

"You couldn't pick a library table like normal people?" Maya said, adjusting the strap of her bag as she crossed to him.

Logan looked up, his eyes meeting hers like he had been waiting for her, not for this. 

"Too crowded," he said, with a calm tone. "Too fluorescent. Thought we could use a little...altitude."

"You mean privacy," she said.

He grinned, not denying it. "I mean, is that a bad thing?"

Maya sat across from him, carefully placing her books between them like a barrier. "Only if you're planning to use it."

"Oh, I always plan to use it."

"Logan-"

"Kidding," he said, all white teeth and a maddening calm. "Mostly."

Maya opened the textbook and opened the passage they'd marked the week before. "We're covering stream of consciousness today. If you can keep your mind from drifting long enough to-"

"It's not my mind I have trouble keeping still," he said, gaze flicking to her mouth and back up again, shamelessly.

She exhaled slowly, "you're exhausting."

"And yet, you keep showing up."

Maya met his eyes then, square on, refusing to be baited. "Because I take this seriously. Because I care about doing a job well."

"I know," Logan said, quietly now. "That's one of the things I-" He stopped himself, then gave her a crooked smile. "Admire."

The word hung there, too formal for his usual arsenal of teasing.

Maya frowned. "You brought us up here to flirt in fresh air?"

"I brought us up here because I needed a break from pretending I don't want to."

Her heart skipped once, hard enough to make her grip the edge of the table. "Logan!"

"I am studying," he said, flipping the page and leaning forward. "I'm reading every damn word you assign me. I'm trying to get it right. But you have to stop looking at me like I'm not taking this seriously just because I can't keep my mouth shut."

His voice was low now, with something that went deeper than charm. And Maya, who'd spent years building fences out of effort and ambition, suddenly felt them quake.

The wind picked up, ruffling papers. Neither moved to catch them. 

"I don't know what this is," she said after a beat. "This...game."

"It's not a game," Logan said. "It was. At first. But then you started calling me out. Telling me I wasn't special. Acting like I didn't scare you, even though I do."

"You don't scare me."

"Liar."

They stared at each other, something electric crackling in their silence, fed by the height, the seclusion, the way the world below fell too far to matter.

Maya broke the moment, looking down at the book. "We're here to study."

"Fine," Logan said, smiling slowly and looking satisfied. "Let's study stream of consciousness. Like Virginia Woolf. Want to know what's running through mine right now?"

"No."

He leaned closer, his voice soft with a masculine whisper that trailed over her skin. "You."

Maya shut the book with a snap. "That's not literature."

"It's poetry. Just not the kind they put in the curriculum."

"You're impossible," she murmured gathering her things. 

"I'm here, aren't I?" he said, suddenly more serious than playful. "I'm not skipping. I'm not pretending to be dumb. I'm reading, writing, even if you don't see all of it. You make me want to try."

Maya paused, halfway to standing.

He didn't say anything else. Logan just watched her like she was a riddle he hadn't solved yet, and wanted to so badly, it hurt.

She sat back down, slowly and wordlessly.

Then Logan exhaled. And just like that, they opened the book again.

This time, Maya didn't move the textbook further from him. And Logan didn't smile. But his hand brushed hers for a fraction too long as he turned the page. Maya didn't pull away. 

A gust of air rustled the edge of Maya's notebook, but she didn't look up. Her pen moved in efficient strokes as she underlined key points, lips pursed in that way she always did when concentrating.

Logan watched her from across the table. his chin resting on one hand, his pencil unmoving. He'd stopped pretending to take notes ten minutes ago.

"You're not even trying," Maya said without glancing up.

"I'm admiring your commitment to underlining," he replied dryly. "Truly, Maya. The dedication is inspiring."

Her eyes turned up, sharp, then softened when she saw the corner of his mouth twitching with restrained amusement. "This is serious, Logan."

"I know," he said, sitting up straight and flipping a page with an exaggerated purpose. "I'm taking you seriously. I always do."

Maya sighed, biting the inside of her cheek, refusing to smile. She was supposed to be drawing lines. Not letting them blur like ink in water. Not thinking about how his voice dipped when he said her name, or the way his eyes darkened when she got too close. Yet it had been weeks since she'd gone more than a few hours without thinking about him.

It was irritating for her.

And furthermore impossible to ignore.

Logan stretched his arms behind his head, exposing a sliver of skin above his belt where his shirt rode up. It was the most casual kind of provocation, unintentional if she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Which she didn't.

"I have to end early today," she said, trying to inject her voice with professionalism. "I've got coffee plans."

"Coffee," Logan echoed, tilting his head. "With who?"

"Some friends," she said, tapping her pen against the book. "Off-campus."

He was watching her now. The lightness had vanished from his expression.

"Anyone I know."

"No. Well, except Damian," she said casually, without noticing the sudden stillness that took over him. "You, remember him, right? He said hi that time you and I were in the tutoring center."

His jaw flexed, just slightly. "Damian."

"Yeah. He'll be there. Along with some others you haven't met. Why?"

Logan shrugged but it was too controlled and careful.

"No reason," he said, though his voice had lost some of its usual lilt. "Just wondering how you always find time for coffee with you friends when your schedule's so packed."

There was a bite in the word that caught her attention. 

"Logan..."

He looked away staring out over the edge of the rooftop at the canopy trees beyond, brittle and red gold in the warning light. When he spoke again, his voice sounded darker.

"So you're really going?"

"Yes," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Why wouldn't I?"

He didn't answer. He just turned back to her slowly, like the shift in his body was intentional. His gaze met hers intensely in a way that made her stomach tighten.

"I don't like the idea of him looking at you."

"Excuse me?" she caught her breath.

"Damian," he said, with a calm voice that sounded tense. "He looks at you like he wants something."

Maya blinked in surprise. "And that's your business because...?"

He stood then, stepping around the table, close enough she had to tilt her head back to look at him. She held her ground as her heart rioted beneath her ribs.

"It's not," he said. "But that doesn't change the fact that it pisses me off."

She stared at him, momentarily speechless. She could feel the heat from his body, the way his presence filled the space between them like smoke. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

"Logan, this is-this tutoring thing-it's not-"

"Just tutoring?" he finished for her, eyes locked on hers.

"Yes," she said. But her voice didn't sound convincing, even to her own ears.

Something shifted in his gaze. He stepped even closer, and for a breathless moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he reached past her, picked up her pen, and placed it neatly on her notebook.

"You should go," he said softly, but the tension between them thrummed like a live wire.

She took a step back, needing distance, air, something.

"I will," she murmured. "I-I need to."

He nodded, hands in his pockets, but his gaze never left her. And as she walked away, too fast, too aware of the flush rising in her cheeks, Logan didn't follow. But he didn't stop watching her either.

And Maya, for all her determination to keep things in neat, academic boxes, couldn't stop thinking about the heat in his eyes or the possessiveness that was buried beneath him