“I’ve been making a mistake all year,” he admitted, voice rough. “And it wasn’t Grace. It was thinking I had to get over her to be ready for something real. But I’m not getting over her, Romi. I’m getting to you.”
That’s what he repeated like a mantra at the start of freshman year, sitting on the worn couch in the Briar hockey house, a bottle of Jack in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling her Instagram like a masochist.
“What if,” he said slowly, “I stopped looking in the wrong places?” The Mistake Vk Elle Kennedy
“No.” She leaned forward, her voice softer now. “Your mistake wasn’t Grace. It was thinking she was the only one who could want you.”
“I’m not alone. You’re here.”
Until she dumped him for a guy who sold vape pens out of his Camaro.
The mistake, Logan told himself, was her. Clearly. She’d traded loyalty for a loser with a neck tattoo. He was better off. “I’ve been making a mistake all year,” he
“You know what your real mistake was?” she said finally.
Logan looked up. Ramona “Romi” Perez stood in the doorway, arms crossed, dark hair tumbling over one shoulder. She wasn’t dressed up—just Briar sweatpants and an old T-shirt—but somehow she still looked like she belonged on a magazine cover. It was annoying. She was annoying. But I’m not getting over her, Romi