Shutout

Chapter 8 - Kane

It's just as hot inside as it is outside at this point. But if I'm inside, I can make us sit in the living room by the air conditioning. So I don't bother cleaning off my little kitchen table and placing all the food on the island. 

I had texted Logan to be over around 7:30 for food, but it was simpler to make than I anticipated, so now I'm scrolling through social media with no real purpose. Harold is up in his cat tree, also trying to smooch off the air conditioning. 

At 7:34 pm, the doorbell goes off, scaring me nearly off the couch in surprise. I fail to get my foot right away and end up falling back on the couch, but I manage to get it the second time and try to scurry down the hallway. 

When I opened the door, "Holy cow, did you get burnt!"

If Logan was blushing, I would have no idea behind his crab-red face. Other than a very clearly awful sunburn, he looks the same in his basketball shorts and t-shirt. I try not to imagine how sunburnt his body is for my own sanity. 

"I know, I know! My mom scolded me enough about it." He slides in the house when I move out of the way, leaving me to trail behind him. "I just forgot that one day, and it turned out like this! None of the other guys put on sunscreen, and none of them got as red as me!"

"Paperwhite was never going to tan, Logan," I tease him, but his pouting makes me genuinely laugh. 

"I know," He furrows his brows but must regret in pain because they smooth out right away, "Whatever. Remind me never to go outside again, I guess."

"Poor baby. Good thing you're an indoor athlete," I stand behind the island, Logan on the other side surveying the goods, "So, we have Bbarbque chicken, potato salad, and some of my leftover watermelon. I have water, lemonade, and coke to drink, your choice."

"Mmh, water, please. Where are we eating today?" He asks. 

"We're going to camp out in the living room because I'm dying of heat, and that's where my air conditioner is, cool?"

I get both of us a glass of water before we build our plates and transition to the living room. Both of us end up sitting on the ground around the small coffee table I have and thankfully cleaned earlier. I like to look at Logan's plate to see how he portions food and to laugh at how much more food there is on there than mine. 

"Does your cat always glare at everyone, or does he just not like me?" Logan speaks loudly over the air conditioner and looks over his shoulder at the cat tree where Harold is surveying us. 

"Harold? No, he was born with a resting bitch face, unfortunately. He's also a shelter kitty, so something must have happened before I had him that makes him cautious of people," I shrug, cutting into my food, "The more you're over, the more he'll like you, I promise. But his face is pretty much frozen."

"Oh, okay, good."

"So? Tell me all about your trip. I want to know so much that it feels like I was there."

Logan chuckles, shredding his hunk of chicken, "It was hot, and the ocean was really beautiful. It was so clear and turquoise. Um...it was really nice seeing everyone again, even though it's only been a couple of months. Um...Brett, one of my friends from Maine, got way too drunk one night, and we convinced him to jump into the ocean because the restaurant was right off the beach. Anyway, he did it, but his drunk mind forgot how to swim suddenly, so this 6'2'' 240-pound guy was flailing around in the shallow shore like he was drowning. It was both very funny and embarrassing."

I imagine a football linebacker or something barely into the water, crying for help and splashing around. It makes me laugh along with Logan. 

"What else...Oh, Melanie, Greg's wife, my brother, announced that she's pregnant. It's their first, so that's really exciting for them—"