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Taigi’s head shot up, but he stayed in his corner

“Don’t get up, I'll get it,” I said to hiain

“Coh thethe door “Logan?”

Logan Davenport, one of Bash’s closest friends, stood at the door with two cups of coffee on a tray in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other Since the incident, he had taken it upon himself to check up on me every few days

“You've gotten skinnier” He frowned

I looked down at a

pants and oversized shirt “Yay?”

“Not yay,” he snapped, entering the apartment “You need to eat, Gwen”

“Logan, I told you, you don’t need to do all of this for me” I followed him into the kitchen, where he unpacked some of my pots and pans “Hey!”

“I’ll put the for more utensils

“Seriously, Logan—”

“Gwen, please let me do this,” he uilty I feel My best friend ran aithhis fiancée alone to pick up the pieces I introduced theuilty toward you, too So please, let me do this much… I knoe aren’t that close, but still”

I stared at hian He and Bash were fraternity brothers He cahts and dinners we threw, but other than that, Logan and I had never been close Logan had only just turned twenty-two, five years younger than Bash and two years younger than me; maybe that’s why I always saw hier brother, as well He and Bash even looked alike They both had hazel eyes and brown hair, though Bash’s was sandier in color Seeing Logan so serious noas odd

“Can you even cook?” I grinned, looking through the bag he'd brought

“Can I cook?” He mocked me as if he was horrified I'd asked the question “I will have you know I make the best damn omelets in all of New York”