Page 13 of The Way We Touch

“Sorry…” I shake my head, sticking out my hand. “I’m Dylan. You must be Logan?”

Garrett doesn’t even notice my reaction to his drop-dead gorgeous friend. “Craig! How’s it hanging, man?” They shake and Garrett pulls him into a crushing hug. “Got anything to eat? We’ve been driving since 3 o’clock this morning.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dylan.” Logan’s voice is low and smooth like that jar of honey, and he has a freaking dimple in his cheek. A freaking dimple. “Garrett talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” I sound completely star-struck. “Can I get you something? Coffee, tea…”

Me…

“Coffee would be great.”

I scurry into the kitchen to get myself together, reminding myself I don’t date football players, while I also grab coffee and soft drinks, leaving them out front talking to Allie and Craig.

“Dylan, is there food at the house?” Garrett calls when I return with two coffees.

“There’s food right here.” I put the mugs down. “Let me grab the sugar and cream, and I’ll whip up something.”

I’m on my way back to the kitchen when I hear the sound of plastic rattling on the bar. “What’s this? Salsa?”

I turn around just in time to see him pass a chip to Logan, and the two of them scoop into the bowl of grated ghost pepper.

Throwing up my hands, I scream, No! Craig is close enough to slap the chip out of Garrett’s hand, but it’s too late for Logan. It’s in his mouth, and just as fast, his eyes bug out.

He clutches his throat, dropping to one knee, and all hell breaks loose.

3

Logan

I’m dying.

Volcanic magma coats my tongue and throat. Tears flood my eyes, spilling onto my cheeks, and snot runs uncontrollably from my nose. Chaos is all around me, and I fall from my knees to my ass.

I try to speak, to beg for mercy, but my voice has been burned off. My entire body is burning, and I’m pretty sure these are my final moments on the planet.

From a far-off distance, I hear a woman crying. Garrett’s big hand clasps my shoulder, pressing my back against the bar as the skinny guy holds a plastic glass of milk to my mouth.

“Drink,” Garrett orders, but I can’t.

My lips are gone, melted away by the fire of a thousand suns.

“Drink the milk, Logan!” He grasps my jaw, pulling it down and pouring the cool liquid into my mouth so fast it floods over, running down my chin and onto my shirt.

The burn eases slightly, and at the hint of relief, I grip the glass with both hands, desperately chugging the milk like my life depends on it.

I think it might.

“What have I done?” Dylan is on her knees beside me clasping a washcloth in her hands.

Someone returns with another full glass of milk, and I grab it, control slowly seeping back as the fire recedes.

“Try holding it in your mouth and swishing.” Garrett’s voice is worried as he studies me.

I blink my eyes, trying to regain focus as the pain slowly, slowly dissipates from my mouth and throat, but it isn’t gone. Not by a long shot.

“Better?” he asks.

“My stomach…” I put a hand on my wet shirt.