Noah's POV
"I didn't want you to come with me."
The words fall out of my mouth faster than I mean them to, too sharp, too sudden. Logan blinks like I just slapped him, the measuring tape snapping back into its casing with a sharp click. His blue eyes go wide, then narrow—a storm brewing behind them. His mouth opens slightly, then curves, slow and crooked.
He raises a brow. "That's a shame."
My face heats up instantly.
"No! I didn't—" That sounded so wrong. "I didn't mean it like that!" I drag a hand over my face. "Ugh. I walked right into that one, didn't I?"
"You ran into it," he corrects, shoulders relaxing. "Full sprint."
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. Sawdust grits under my palm. "I'm trying to be serious here."
"Yeah?" he says, leaning on the half-assembled bed frame, all arms and shadow and faux-innocence. "Because this feels like a setup to a very weird complaint about last night."
"Logan."
He holds up his hands, but the grin stays. "Kidding. Kidding."
