“I’ll get you some more blankets,” I say, heading off towards the linen closet. It’s empty. I’ve used every single spare blanket that I have in my apartment to throw over my bed, or Logan’s makeshift bed on the couch.
We’re in a blanket scarce economy and the temperature’s supposed to hit 25 below with the wind chill tonight.
I lean back, and bump into a very solid chest, and well, the rest of his body, too.
“Sorry, Max,” Logan says, not sounding sorry at all. I’m about to start throwing elbows, but Logan takes a few steps back, giving me my space. “If I can tape a blanket over the balcony door and the windows here in the living room, I bet it would be a lot warmer in here.”
I nod, because yeah, that makes sense.
The living room is blanketed in candlelight again, and my bedroom looks
