–Logan–
I think Livana's trying to shove me toward Jane, like some matchmaking godmother with a twisted sense of humor. As if I'd ever fall for Jane. She's not my type, and judging by the way she looks at me—like I'm a cockroach she can't quite squash—I'm definitely not hers either. Teasing her is just a sport. She's not Laura. And God, Laura… don't even get me started. My first love, the one who ditched me for her best friend. Yeah. Try not to gag.
"Not again." Jane's voice sliced through my train of thought. She eyed the cigarette dangling between my fingers like it was a live grenade. "You should sit in the backseat."
She looked like her usual self—minimalist. Denim skinny jeans, black ankle boots, a leather jacket that fit like it was stitched onto her, hair yanked into a ponytail so tight it looked like it might rip her scalp off. No makeup, no fuss. Just moisturizer and attitude.
"What?" she snapped, noticing my stare.
