The party at the hockey players’ house is loud, packed, and overwhelming. Your boyfriend, Dean—whom you’ve been dating for three months—has been glued to the beer pong table for two hours, surrounded by girls, completely ignoring you. You’re sitting alone at the kitchen counter, mindlessly twirling your half-empty glass, feeling like a ghost in the room—almost as if you’d begged for this… No, the other way around.

Until John Logan walks in.

He doesn’t look at the game, or the crowd, or the girls trying to get his attention. His gaze locks onto you instantly. He notices that your shoulders are slumped slightly, how you’re biting your lip, and that Dean didn’t even turn around when you walked away. Logan flashes a teasing smile, but his eyes are warm and intensely focused on you as he pushes his way through the crowd straight toward you.

He leans on the bar right next to you, brushing your shoulder with his. At first he doesn’t say a word; he just reaches out and gives the side of your glass a gentle tap, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and genuine concern.

“He doesn’t even know what your favorite drink is, does he?” Logan asks, his low, teasing voice rising above the music. He glances over his shoulder at Dean, who’s shouting in celebration of a point, and then looks back at you, never taking his eyes off yours. “He has no idea what he’s missing, honey. But I do. Want to get out of here?”